


Trying Not to Love You

by wednesdays_pookie



Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: Angst, Multi, descriptions of blood/gore, secondary character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2018-12-30 11:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 55,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesdays_pookie/pseuds/wednesdays_pookie
Summary: Slow Burn Caryl (WIP)Starts during Season 3-4 interlude. Canon up until then, but this story diverts from canon at from end of season 3, it's AU but still ZA.





	1. Chapter 1 - Her

**Author's Note:**

> Multi-chapter/character, is primarily a Caryl story but will feature many other storylines, relationships & a few original characters. 
> 
> If Caryl isn't your thing, this ain't the work for you :)

It was actually almost silent for once. Daryl savoured it as if it was a Snickers bar. He lay on his back in his bed in the cell he'd only recently claimed as his own. It still felt odd, voluntarily sleeping in a cage, even if it was unlocked, but the world was odd now. He closed his eyes, it must have been very early hours and still dark outside. The dark was that all consuming black, when it envelops you and everything else; it swallows all other sounds. Like a black hole maybe.   
He could only hear his own thoughts. He hated dwelling on his thoughts, especially as lately they always drifted her way. 

Why?

Why did he have to feel a connection to her from the moment they were introduced back at that first camp? When Merle was turning on his particular charm so they could eventually rob them blind, why was Daryl noticing a timid, mouse-like married woman. A woman who tried her best to hide in plain sight? 

When they were staking the place out, he'd assumed she was old, her almost buzz cut greying hair and frumpy, shapeless clothes. Up close, she was beautiful, younger, softer somehow. Her voice was gentle, and she was like him, didn't waste words, although she probably wasn't allowed to speak unless spoken to before the world ended. It was apparent to everyone that her big, bad wolf of a husband liked to lay hands on her. Ed Peletier was under the impression all men got handy with their fists on the ones they “loved”. Obviously Daryl had been on the receiving of such treatment while growing up. He knew what type of man Ed was and it infuriated him right from the beginning. 

It festered and grew and observed the situation whenever he could, half hoping to catch Ed in the act so he could give him a taste of his own medicine. Daryl didn't like thinking much about those days; his brother ended up chained to a pipe on the roof of a building before sawing his own hand off. They suffered losses at the camp after a walker attack whilst he, Rick, Glenn and T-Dog were trying to locate his sorry ass sibling. The only good loss after that attack was bully boy Ed getting his just deserts. 

Daryl sighed. Remembered the moment he really noticed Carol Peletier. She was bashing dead Ed’s brains in with a pick axe whilst crying. At first, Daryl had been almost mad; why was she crying over that prick? He beat her, he humiliated her, probably told her she was worthless and unattractive. Then he realised they were more like tears of relief. Daryl had no doubt Carol took the beatings to protect Sophia. The girl was gentle and quiet like her mother but she too, had a spark of something about her that Ed could not diminish. Carol seemed to try her best to keep Sophia out of her father’s path. That moment, watching the pick-axe demolish the ogre’s skull, he noticed the woman’s inner strength shining through.

Now look at him. 

Lying in his bed staring at the bunk above him like some teenager with a crush. Thinking of times they'd spent together, him struggling against his inner voice. It screamed at him to make a move. He just couldn't. 

It was like being on the highest diving board at the pool, working up the courage to jump off. He would build it up and take a deep breath, he'd go find her. She'd smile that twinkly smile at him when he did and another internal voice would whisper “You're not good enough for her”. The flicker of courage would extinguish itself and he remained in this state of uncertainty. Unsure, because, he suspected she was aware of his feelings. She flirted with him often enough, if she knew how he felt, why didn't she act on it? She mustn’t feel the same. Well, he wasn't sure if it was flirting or if it was just friendly teasing because she always laughed or chuckled at the end. He always got flustered and awkward and words failed him. So he'd make some random noise and run away. He was such an idiot. 

At times, he wished he could be more like Shane.   
Shane Walsh had been Rick Grimes’ best friend. Sure, he screwed Rick’s wife, got her pregnant and lost his mind (and consequently his life) but Daryl always got the impression that Shane knew how to sweet talk a lady. He must have had some gift to get Lori “frosty knickers” Grimes into the sack. 

Even damn Merle, obnoxious, racist, drug addled Merle could have his way with women. 

Daryl knew the others noticed him observing her. He couldn't help it. She was a pull for him. If they were in a crowed place together, he always looked for her. Plus, there were far more people at the prison now, after they took in those abandoned by The Governor at Woodbury. He worried someone new would catch her eye if they continued taking groups in. The others had taken to immediately informing him of her whereabouts whenever he returned from a run or a hunt because once he'd unloaded his haul, the first words out of his mouth would always be; “Where's Carol?”. 

Council meetings were both his favourite time of the week and most torturous. He stared at her whenever she had the floor, and those times she didn't. Everyone paid attention too, but he didn't think they watched her mouth, her lips, her eyes. Once, he had chewed his lip while she was talking and accidentally caught Hershel’s eye. The old man winked at him and raised his eyebrows.

Hershel had also once caught him staring at her after Dale’s funeral back at the farm. 

Remembering all the times the others had noticed his behaviour embarrassed him but back then, he'd been more concerned about her emotional state after Sophia’s death. Sophia.

Daryl could feel his cheeks heating up in the dark, which was now less stifling. Damn feelings. He sighed again. He'd decided last night to carry on being rough redneck Daryl, who growled at most people, ate raw meat and carried a crossbow. 

He'd try to forget how he really felt like he'd had to most of his life. He had buried his feelings of inadequacy, his fear of never being loved, of never having a family and only now had he discovered that having feelings for someone should also buried. No way was he going to open up and allow the possibility of being hurt in. Look at Rick. He was so messed up by love and betrayal that he was close to losing his damn mind. 

“Nah” Daryl muttered to himself as he sat up punched his pillow into a more comfortable position. Not him. Not risking anything unless he got a clear, unambiguous sign that she felt something more than friendship for him. 

She worried about him on runs, she had once told him she ‘couldn't lose’ him but maybe she felt the same about Rick, their leader or Glenn, everyone's favourite walker-bait. That's what he told himself, he couldn't let himself hope that he was special to her. 

He did have something she had said to him imprinted into his brain though. After they lost the farm and he had saved her from the Walkers on his bike, they had to make a camp in the roadside. Rick was emotional and angry after having to kill Shane and most of the group had a fear in their eyes. Carol had voiced her concerns to him and Daryl had asked her what she wanted. 

“A man of honour” was her reply. 

So he had tried to be that man, to forget his worthless life before, and he would do his damn best to start over as a good man. Then maybe, one day, she'd realise that her man of honour had been around the whole time. 

He knew what honour was and he was pretty sure such men didn't go discussing their thoughts and feelings with someone they thought they loved until they were sure they'd won her heart. He had to be careful and mindful of her. 

She had already suffered the greatest loss, that of her girl, would she ever even risk getting close to anyone in this world? It was an endless, exhausting circle he navigated in his mind most nights; tell her, talk it through with someone, engineer some way to spend time alone with her, forget her, kiss her….

Sighing again he turned onto his side and closed his eyes. His brain hurt from analysing these feelings. His mind’s eye pictured her face in profile, the wind blowing from behind her. A Cherokee Rose (her flower) tucked behind her ear, her blue eyes twinkled as his imagination had her turn his way. 

That was when a baby’s hungry cry pierced the air and Daryl knew he'd get no reprieve before sunrise. 

He sighed again and swung his legs off the bunk. 

T~B~C


	2. Chapter 2 - Night Feeds

Judith had started grumbling about five minutes before she let out a scream of hunger and impatience. Carol smiled to herself. The girl took after Lori, definitely. 

“Ok, ok, I'm coming,” soothed Carol as she roused herself from her bunk to find the baby's bottle. She should have checked the time on the old clock face in her pocket but it didn't matter. Judith wanted milk every four hours on the hour. So, by Carol's calculations, it was definitely 4am. She smiled in the darkness. 

“C’mon, she who must be fed. Before you wake the whole damned place.” She lifted Judith from the travel cot Daryl and Sasha had found on a run last week. The baby was only eight weeks old but it felt like she had been with them from the start. 

They had a rota, to help Rick out with night feeds. He was not coping as well as anybody hoped after everything. The council (she felt a little out of her depth, being a part of that; making decisions, even shared ones were not something she was used to. Ed had damn near thought for her most of the time before) had discussed that perhaps taking the pressure off Rick in regards to Judith might help. It didn't seem to be. Half the time, he was off in the woods muttering to himself, the other half he was tending his crops. 

She could completely understand his grief. Although she was glad Ed died, she still felt the gaping hole of loss in regards to Sophia. Her beautiful girl, whom she'd once held and fed in the darkness, who she'd rocked to sleep, fussed over. Wondered what sort of woman she'd have become. She had been determined that her girl would be independent, go to college and never, ever rely on a man for anything. Ed had constantly told her how unattractive she was, how stupid, needy and worthless, but she was relieved that he refrained from saying such things to his daughter. He had mostly just plain ignored the girl, or snapped at her occasionally. He had begun taking more notice of Sophia when she started to mature and her body began to change. 

So, Carol had messed up more often on purpose, stomped on the eggshells so to speak. If Ed got to lash out at her more, maybe he'd get his kicks enough to leave Sophia alone. When the world ended, Carol had tried to convinced herself Ed would change. He'd realise what he had to lose and he'd stop looking at his maturing daughter in an unacceptable way. 

The impending apocalypse seemed to enrage him more. Go figure. Carol smiled again in the darkness. She knew the others at that camp thought she was weak and pathetic, but she also knew there was no way on this earth she'd have ever let that man hurt her little girl. By the time Rick Grimes miraculously found Lori and Carl she had been mentally running through plans to somehow escape Ed’s grasp. She hadn't figured it out much, there was always a flaw in her rudimentary plans, but she felt the dead coming back to life had shifted the balance of power in her favour. He had no fancy house to hold over her, money counted for nothing, nor did expensive cars; there were no bars for him to go drink in with his buddies, eyeing up women. No stories to tell of how many beautiful women had thrown themselves at him, the tales he told while pinning her down on the bed, as though that would make her compliant and more worn down. 

She didn't care about that of course, any woman interested in him that way was welcome to him. He'd long since destroyed any feeling of love she had. She'd often prayed he'd run off with some dumb bitch and leave her in peace. In the end, fate stepped in. He had his face chewed off by a Walker after taking a beating in front of a group of women, no less, from Shane. 

She remembered taking that pick-axe and even though tears fell, they were ones of fury and relief as she drove the demons from her head out, down her arm, across the handle and into that asshole’s skull. Yes, he got what he deserved. She hoped he was burning in hell. 

Judith had drained the bottle, so she stood, manoeuvred the slumbering baby to her shoulder and placed it on the bookcase beside the wash basin. The bundle on her shoulder let out a belch of satisfaction. She almost chuckled, that girl was determined to wake somebody up but she lowered her gently back into the cot. 

Carol debated whether to try to get more sleep, she wasn't on breakfasts in the morning and Beth was scheduled on for baby day duty at 7:30am. She shivered slightly, it was mid September and there was a chill in the air, especially when standing barefoot on this concrete floor. She wrapped her arms around herself. She should ask somebody to pick her up some flannel nightwear on their next run. This man’s football jersey, although roomy and covering her down to her thighs, wasn't going to be ideal on cold winter nights. 

Of course, this winter would be much more comfortable than the one they spent on the road after the fall of the farm. Nothing could be as bad as that, she thought as she climbed back into her bunk. Although it did have the odd perk, those freezing nights when Daryl had voluntarily wrapped himself around her in a shared sleeping bag. 

Judith stirred and Carol cringed. She knew babies should learn to sleep through a fright train passing by their bed, but she instinctively remembered her utter desperation she felt when Sophia, who had been a terrible sleeper and a frequent crier, wouldn't settle and Ed found it so insufferable, he crashed on his brother’s couch until she was older. Even after that, he had an even shorter than usual fuse when it came to what he called “that noise”. Old habits die hard, Carol thought. 

She could hear someone moving around upstairs on the landing; she didn't need to look to know who it would be. She stood, slipped her bare feet into a pair of running shoes Maggie had given her after a scavenging trip (did she look like a runner, she'd wondered at the time) and headed out of her cell with her kerosene lamp on low. 

And there he was, pacing. Again. 

T~B~C


	3. Chapter 3 - Restless

Daryl took to pacing when he was unsure or worried. Besides his feelings, he had a sense that something bad was going to happen. Although tortured nightly by his thoughts and mental gymnastics over Carol, he did feel something like contentment, living in this prison now. 

Of course the Rick situation was worrying and he didn't know every single person living there, but they had all settled into roles and routines and it brought a sense of community to the place. 

There was no point going out hunting while it was this dark, but he couldn't stay in that cage much longer right now. Hell, he'd even start on breakfast if he wasn't a terrible cook. Before all this, the fall of the world they knew, Merle would order him to make something, which he would after much cursing and crashing of pots. He'd set whatever he'd concocted down in front of his brother, who would taste it & throw his head back laughing and spit it out. Merle would eat raw meat, twigs, he inject or inhale any substance but he wouldn't eat Daryl’s cooking. “Damned rats wouldn't eat this, little brother. Gonna have to get myself some piece of ass that can cook for us.” He'd say before throwing it in the trash, plate and all. 

So, Daryl had stated from the start, especially when they settled in this place, he'd hunt, go on runs, clean, do anything but cook. Carol had laughed at that one in the first council meeting. 

And there she was. 

“Hey,” she said in a whisper from the bottom of the metal steps. “Whatcha doing?” 

Daryl swallowed. The glow from her lamp cast a toasty glow around her and lengthened the shadows she cast. The light picked out her cheekbones, those tan collarbones of hers and the smooth skin on her legs. Don’t look at her legs, he scolded himself. Why did she walk around in those long jerseys with her legs on show like that? Did she know what it did to him? He looked down and shrugged. 

“You don't know?” She whispered with a smile as she mounted the steps. 

“Can't sleep.” He muttered, chewing the corner of his mouth and looking at the floor. Why am I like this? He groaned inwardly. At times, he could behave like a normal person around her, and he often yearned to be alone with her. It was a delicious torture. But when that opportunity actually arose, sometimes, he fell apart. This was one of those times. He'd thought about her and his love for her so much, he struggled to keep up the pretence that she was like anybody else to him. Like she was a Maggie, or a Glenn or a Hershel. 

“Everything ok? This is the third time I've found you out here, wearing a track in the floor.” She set the lamp down the small desk at the top of the stairs. She sounded genuinely concerned and her brow furrowed slightly as she studied him. Those eyes studied him so intently that he was sure she could see into his soul, he just hoped they didn't read minds too. They were so blue and expressive, he could lose himself in them whenever he was brave enough to allow himself to hold her gaze. 

He was afraid if did ever look her in the eye for too long, she'd know. If she didn't already. And probably reject him. So, he avoided eye contact where he could, although he did that with mostly everyone at times, and had done his whole life. 

“Dunno” he shrugged again, chewed his mouth “Got this feelin’. Something ain't right.”

“A feeling?” She stepped back a little. “Do you feel sick?” She studied him again. 

With anyone else, she'd be starting to lose patience. It was like talking to a teenage boy at times with Daryl. But this was Daryl. 

He was special. Not in the head, or anything - he wasn't stupid. He just realise how truly special he was. He was a good man, she knew it. Saw it in him right at the start, tried to tell him, show him back at the farm. 

Yes, he'd been following his asshole brother around (she suspected that deep down, Merle Dixon had a good heart, she'd been proved right somewhat in the end) but she knew how it felt to lose yourself in the shadow of another. When someone you love, who has such a hold over you that you mould into whatever they force you to be, you forget real love doesn't equate to abuse. 

She knew he didn't realise how much gratitude she felt toward him when he did so much to find her girl. He almost died. Sophia’s own father died trying to protect himself only and this stranger, who looked to all the world like an undesirable risked his himself to try to find Sophia. 

At that point, she knew he was good, through and through and she could never repay him. She had told him he was every bit as good as Rick and Shane but he was as uncomfortable with praise as he was with physical interaction. Now, Carol also knew she couldn't bear to lose him….they'd lived through so much together. 

Of course, there was another reason she couldn't lose him. It was one she put into an imaginary box in the back of her mind. With Ed, the box housed the secret abuse she suffered. She knew what was inside that box now, wrapped up securely and kept it all within. 

Occasionally she might take the box out and look at it, toying with the possibility of opening it up and the floodgates with it. She just couldn’t. It wasn't that she was scared as such, it was just after the enormity of everything that had happened, she didn't feel it was the right time. She didn't honestly know when would be the right time, but living here, was starting to feel more settled. More like a place you could plan a future. 

And in this world, she wasn't sure if anyone should allow themselves to feel anything for anyone. It could all be snatched away in a heartbeat. Plus, she wasn't sure how Daryl would react, should she ever open that box, so to speak. She told herself that it would only lead to rejection.

There were times she felt his eyes on her when he thought she wouldn’t notice. She didn't know if it was out of a brotherly concern, or friendly look to make sure she was okay at all times. The intensity of his staring seemed to suggest more than friendship or familial feelings, but she was useless at relationships and clearly wasn't an expert on guys, given her choices in the past. 

It got her a little flustered if she analysed it, which she avoided, or she'd drive herself crazy. Whatever was going on behind his eyes, he kept it to himself. He couldn't pass her a bandage without studying it intently, trying to avoid her eyes and touch so he sure as hell wasn’t ever going to sit her down and open up. 

Maybe he didn't want to get close to her now because she repulsed him, those nights out on the road where more than likely born out of obligation. He'd never once tried anything and the insults Ed branded into her self esteem rose to the surface.

Carol had decided to start pushing certain boundaries with Daryl, in an effort to help him understand how honourable he was. She was going to get decent eye contact. At the moment, they were on smiles mostly. He smiled a little when she cracked a joke. Baby steps. She figured the heavens would open, should she ever get a chuckle or, heaven forbid, a laugh out of him. She'd try though. 

His grumpiness, growling, grunting and lack of being socially adjusted enough to hold another person’s eye stemmed from a lack of self worth. She'd build that up, brick by brick, even if it took a lifetime. Which in this reality may not be too long but God loved a trier. He deserved to see what others saw in him. 

They were progressing with smiles and she was working on physical interaction. Not, the throwing her up against a tree physicality (she wouldn't protest of course) but being able to touch his arm or nudge him or pass him something without him jumping twelve feet in the air if they brushed hands. He'd almost sunk into the bed at the farm when she'd kissed his forehead after Andrea shot him. She knew then it was all connected to the abuse he'd suffered. She saw the scars on his back. Part of her had wanted to sit on the bed and tell him he wasn't alone, she knew exactly how he felt but it would have been a waste of energy; he'd have clammed right up. 

She wrapped her arms around herself and felt her teeth were going to chatter. “Are you coming down with something maybe?”

“Naw, Dixon’s don't get sick”. He snorted. 

She suddenly stepped forward and put a hand on his forehead. “You feel a little on the warm side.” 

Daryl swallowed. He was warm because she was in his personal space, whispering, leaning toward him in that jersey and her short greying hair was tousled and, looked sexy as hell. He noticed she looked like she was cold. 

He decided to be brave like he had during their winter long camping trip. He took a step forward and without allowing himself to think, both of his hands started rubbing her upper arms for warmth. 

He looked down at her, into her eyes, struggling against his urges and said “M’aight”. I am now, he thought. 

One of inner voices urged him to stay like this forever, he liked the way his hands could probably encompass her entire bicep. She was so slender and he felt so protective of her, but he knew she had a steel core and could take care of herself. “You should go back to bed, get warmed up.”

“Mmmm, go back to bed, huh?” She tilted her head, looking up at him, a small smile playing at her lips. He could have sworn she bit her bottom lip a little, when he replayed the scene in his head later on. (He did that a lot, hence the lack of sleep) She inched closer and whispered, “What if I need more warming up once I'm in bed?” 

Silence. A heartbeat. Then she laughed. 

As her words sunk in, so did the panic and awkwardness. 

“Huh”. He mumbled and suddenly dropped his hands like she was a hot iron. “You should still go…. you got Judith. She doin ok?”

Carol looked down towards the cell and nodded. “Yeah. Always hungry. I'll get back to her. As long as you're sure you're ok?” She looked back around with those liquid blue drops of eyes. 

“Fine.” He nodded. He was anything but fine, he'd fucked it up. Again. 

He should loosen up, relax, especially around her. That's what Merle always told him, “Chill out around the pussy, little brother. They can smell fear.” Daryl wasn't inexperienced, he'd been with woman in the past. Of course, he'd always been drunk or high or both when he gained the ability to bring a woman home, if they made it home. He usually made it as far as the back of his truck. 

The women he'd had in the past weren't beautiful or brave or strong. Not that he could remember much, but they'd barely had the brain cells to walk in a straight line while chewing gum. In the past, he found that he could dull that niggling voice in his head with drink or drugs and he could screw around as well as the next guy. Something must have attracted the women, although Merle said it was because Daryl was the ‘sweet’ one. He wasn't sweet to those women. Never got their names, never bothered with numbers, in fact any number of his previous conquests could be in this prison right now and he wouldn't know it. They were faceless, a means to release. He stayed clear of younger looking ones, they usually wanted to ‘talk’ and crawl inside your skin to get to ‘know’ you. So, even though he didn't have a defined type, he preferred more mature women, those who he assumed didn't need him for anything other than a quick drunken fuck. 

Carol picked up the lamp and began to walk back down the steps. “Oh, one more thing,” She spun around and his heart jumped into his throat. “When you're next out on a run, could you maybe grab some thick fleecy pyjamas? A few pairs maybe? Might have to try to find enough share ‘em round. Can't sleep in this flimsy thing all winter.” She pulled at the jersey and in doing so, he caught a glimpse of thigh. He swallowed loudly. 

He nodded. “Sure. On the list” He pulled the corner of his mouth up in an attempt at a smile and nodded. Their next run was in about three hours. 

“Thanks Daryl.” She descended as Judith cried out a little and he watched her hurry back to her cell. He stood a few minutes longer, knowing this latest exchange was going to keep him awake for weeks. 

T~B~C


	4. Chapter 4 - Spilled Milk

Beth was late so Carol had fed the milk monster. 

She was resting Judith on her shoulder when the young girl came rushing into the cell. 

“I'm so sorry!” She cried. “I overslept! Daddy's snoring was unbelievable last night. Kept me awake most of the night.”

Carol chuckled. “You sure it was Hershel’s snoring and not writing songs about Zack that kept you up, huh!” She regarded the girl with a knowing smile. 

Maybe Sophia would have liked music the way Beth did. Maybe she'd have daydreamed about cute college boys and giggled over their innocent flirtations. 

“Nooo, it was the snoring, definitely.” Beth giggled as she reached for the little one. “She need anything?” 

“I just fed her, changed her, cleaned her up a lit……uh oh!!!” Just as Carol handed the baby over, she brought back up what seemed like a swimming pool’s worth of milk. 

Beth had taken hold of her from the back, so the warm liquid sloshed down Carol, who had dressed in her days clothes.   
“Ew!” Beth groaned at that baby sick smell. “I'll go clean her up.”

“Mmmm,” grimaced Carol. She sighed. 

Cold shower for her. The backup generators only kicked in for a couple of hours first thing, to try to save power. They'd be freezing again now. 

Beth slipped off with a gurgling Judith. Carol gathered up her things and made her way to the shower block. On her way, she could hear the sound of someone's hacking cough. That didn't sound good. 

The only way to deal with freezing cold showers was to imagine they were hot ones. That had been Glenn's advice on the washing arrangements and it sucked. 

Carol shuddered as she cleaned the scent of spoiled milk off her skin with her coconut shower gel as quickly as humanly possible. 

She shuffled from foot to foot as she grabbed up her towel and wound it around herself. She was cold to her bones and her dripping wet hair didn't help. As she hurried out of the shower block, she ran into something hard. 

“Ooof” she cried as she smacked off Daryl’s chest. Her breath caught in her chest. 

From the cold, of course she thought later, not from being in front of him, naked with just a towel for cover and his blue eyes on her. She played down a lot of his actions and words in her head but she wasn't stupid enough to not notice the want in his gaze at that moment. 

Once her insecurities kicked in later, she'd remind herself that he hadn't had any action for a long time, so his standards had probably lowered considerably. 

“Woah, you ok. Watch yourself woman.” He was carrying a water jug and looked his usual rugged self. He was wearing a thick leather jacket, a checked shirt with a t-shirt underneath and his usual torn jeans. She'd offered to patch those jeans up countless times but he always brushed her off, even though he was at her cell regularly asking her to sew closed the worn patches on his shirts. 

“Sorry, I was rushing back to my cell. Had to have a cold one cos Judith brought up her breakfast all over me.” Her teeth chattered. 

He drank the sight of her in again. “Go,” he said “You'll catch your death if you're not careful.” He saw the traces of scars left by cigarette burns on her back as she hurried off down the hallway. 

They had both known pain from the hands of the those they loved. Daryl leaned against the wall, momentarily forgetting his task of filling the jug for the run. 

Couldn't shake the image from his head, of creamy skin glistening with moisture, the goosebumps appearing, of the cold making those scars appears darker on her back. He'd kiss each of those scars one day, he hoped. 

“DARYL!!!” Michonne screamed from the courtyard.

He straightened, picked up the jug and filled it as quickly as he could. An impatient Michonne on his case was the last thing he needed. 

~ 

Once the runners were ready in the courtyard, the main council and leaders of the prison gathered. This happened on every run, everyone saying goodbye to each other because it could be the last time those going would see their family. 

Daryl was going on Merle’s bike as always.

Michonne had acquired a horse she called “Blaze” which she rode on the other side of the pickup they always took. 

Glenn was driving, Zack called shotgun and Sasha was in the back with Bob. Tyresse originally wanted to tag along on this one, but Daryl was wary of leaving the prison without protection, so he had selected Bob. 

Carol had turned out to be a great shot after gaining confidence, Maggie could handle herself too. But with the majority of the Woodbury folk they took in being old, infirm, or young, Daryl worried whenever he left. 

Rick was unsteady even on good days. Hershel was on crutches, Carl, whilst being one bad ass kid in Daryl’s opinion, was still just a boy. Tyreese, however, could wield a few weapons and looked imposing. Shame he was something of a ‘pansy ass’ as Merle would say. 

Still, Daryl felt a twinge of something akin to jealousy whenever he caught the big black man with the hammer around Carol. 

He had a feeling Ty might have a crush on her, he was like a big, cuddly playful puppy and women and kids were suckers for that. Ty was too tactile for Daryl’s liking so he found himself being snappy with the poor guy, even though he was probably just being friendly. Maybe Daryl should take a leaf out of that guy’s book, he thought as he sat astride the bike and watched Tyresse pump hands with Bob, a huge, genuine grin on his face and slap him on the back before going to linger near the door. 

Daryl lit a cigarette as Rick walked over, looking more pale and lost than ever. 

“You have the list, right?” He looked at Daryl intensely. Rick always managed to get eye contact with him. He'd duck his head to catch his gaze or physically adjust Daryl so that he had to turn to look at him. It was probably a skill learned a cop school, and he indulged Rick because he had a genuine love for the man like another brother. Not that he ever said that aloud. He puffed his smoke and looked up at the sky. 

Rick didn't give him time to answer, “You're clear on what to bring back and you know to avoid the area around that gas station? Michonne almost didn't make it back last time she went out searching for him.” Rick’s eyes wandered across the courtyard and he narrowed them as though he was looking hard at something. Daryl followed the other man’s gaze and squinted in the early morning sun. There was nothing to look at. 

“Hey,” Daryl stood up off the bike. He moved to Rick’s line of sight, sure his friend was about to lapse into one of his episodes. 

The prison was to Rick’s back and Daryl could see the concern on everyone’s faces at him getting off his bike and throwing his butt aside. 

“I got the list. I know Carl wants comics & Shonne is gonna pick him up some stale M&Ms from that grocery store.” He tugged at Rick on the sleeve of his shirt. “Are you gonna be ok man? You gotta hold it together.”

Rick’s head snapped up and he turned to survey the friends gathered behind him in the yard before looking back at his best friend. 

“You gotta think of Carl and Lil Ass Licker,” Daryl said. “And keep an eye on Maggie for Glenn. You got all these old folk, women and kids depending on ya. That fence we strengthened needs to be checked on. You gotta watch Hershel don't go racing Carl and Patrick on his crutches again.” 

A smile flickered on Rick’s face and he nodded at the memory.

Daryl noticed Carol had appeared at the metal fence near one of the other doors. She was wearing clothes now. Shame. Although the grey top she had on emphasised her slender frame, the way it was tucked in her cargo pants. It was the right shade of grey to compliment her hair and her eyes. With the knuckle knife strapped to her waist, she looked sexy but powerful.

Rick spotted her too. “You want me to watch over her, right?” He gave a bitter laugh “You know I'm such a wreck, she'll be watching over me, Daryl. You ain't stupid.”

Daryl’s eyes flicked back to his friend. “You'll get through this. We'll help ya. That's what we do.” He picked up his bow and flung it over his shoulder as Glenn walked over to Maggie and pulled her into an embrace. 

Michonne stamped her foot. “Come on people!! We gotta get going! Glenn, we don't have time for a make out session.” She jumped up onto her horse with urgency and the animal turned in a circle, eager to run. “I'll head down to the gate. Carl, I'll remember those comics!” Her silky brown horse trotted down to the main gate. 

“And the M&Ms!!” Carl shouted after her, grin on his freckled face, his sheriff’s hat tilted back.

Everyone laughed. 

Daryl and Rick strode back towards the prison. As they passed by Glenn and Maggie, Daryl informed them he'd be down at the gate in a second. Rick went to take Judith from Beth and he rocked her gently. 

Daryl pulled Carl to one side and asked him to keep an eye on his Dad. The kid nodded solemnly, Sheriff’s hat bobbing with the motion. Carl assured Daryl he would, and that he knew what to do to protect the group. He clapped the boy on the back. 

Carol was leaning against the metal doorway watching Rick. Daryl knew she was worried. This was a short run, they'd be back late the next afternoon, then they'd have their council meeting to discuss the whole situation. She smiled the smile that made his chest tight as he approached her. 

“Sorry for running into ya this mornin’.” He stood next to her at the doorway and may have snuck a glance down her top which showed a hint of cleavage. “Hope I didn't hurt ya.”

“Well, your chest is kind of hard.” She grinned. “In a good way. But no, you didn't hurt me.”

“Hey, stay safe, right?” He nudged her and couldn't help himself looking at her mouth. 

She was still smiling. “Nine lives, remember?” 

Referring to the time Daryl found her in the tombs after a Walker incident during the early days at the prison. She turned away, back to survey Rick as Judith started grumbling. 

Daryl moved around so that he was in front of her, and without allowing himself to think, cupped her cheek with his hand and turned her face back to look at him. “I mean it, aight?” 

Her brow furrowed slightly, mostly from the shock of him touching her voluntarily and without warning. Then her expression cleared and they stood, staring into each other’s eyes, into each other’s souls. 

She had finally gotten significant eye contact. They drank in each other in. Daryl’s hair fell into his eyes but Carol knew if she reached up and swept it away, as she longed to do, that box in her mind would fall off its shelf with such force, the contents would spill out. 

Now was not the time. Plus, they were taking baby steps. She thought the slow approach was best in this situation. 

As his thumb gently traced a pattern on her jaw and Daryl, abandoning his inner turmoil, felt it would be so easy and the most natural thing to lean in a little and….

“Ewww, they're gonna kiss!” Carl said to Daryl's right and that moment snapped. “Gross!”

Glenn hissed “Carl!” 

Carol put a hand to Daryl's hard chest and eased him away from her. “I promise, I'll be fine.” She sounded a little breathless. Daryl dropped his hand from her face and glanced around to give Carl a look. 

“Think it's maybe time to go, Daryl.” Rick said and gave him a knowing half smile. 

Carol was aware that everyone else was studying them and she was sure that Daryl wasn't or he'd have jumped four feet away from her. 

Daryl nodded and gave her one last look, chewing on the side of his mouth, shaking his hair from his eyes and slowly lowering his hand. 

He walked backwards a few steps, still looking at her, then nodded his farewell to her. He waved at Rick, then headed for the bike, passing the pickup where Zack was leaning. 

The young man gave a low wolf whistle as Daryl passed, then he winked at Beth and climbed in. 

Glenn headed for the driver’s side and Sasha and Bob were already seated. Daryl could hear Sasha asking if there had been a kiss, complaining that she hadn't had a good view. 

Ordinarily, he would have blushed and cringed but right now, he didn't care who saw what. 

Carol’s knees almost gave way as everyone looked from Daryl to her. 

She raised her hands in an ‘I-don't-know’ gesture, heat rushing to her cheeks, especially where he had caressed one of them and hurried inside. 

T~B~C


	5. Chapter 5 - The Talk 1.0

As everyone bustled back to their business, and after the caravan left the prison gates, Carol headed back to the yard to set about the laundry. 

She found cleaning clothes by scrubbing on the washboard therapeutic. Even though it left her hands chapped and sore, she enjoyed being able to work through the washing outside in the relative quiet. They would have to move indoors once the weather changed from autumn to winter. 

She gathered up a sheet of bedding and submerged it in the lukewarm water. They heated it just a fraction to ensure materials got cleaned properly so she added detergent. Washing was done in a large steel barrel atop four wooden slates and due to her height, she had to stand on another plank to effectively set about the task. 

The sun was warm, pleasantly so, the sky mostly blue with a few clouds casually drifting by. Although nights were colder, in general the days still held their summery edge. After fifteen minutes of scrubbing she wished she'd grabbed her cowboy hat and worn a tank. She could have worked on the tan on her arms and shoulders out here. 

Swatting bugs away, she went to peg her first clean sheet on the washing line that Tyresse had put up for her. As always, she observed the layout of the yard and the dining area Glenn had designed and helped build. Never one to become complacent, she often passed the time by thinking up ideas to improve their living arrangements or facilities. 

Not that she was stupid, they were holed up in an abandoned prison during the likely end of civilisation, with little power, and no government or laws in place to live by. At any moment, some crazed psychopath or undesirable group of reprobates could happen upon their equilibrium and bring it crashing down. 

Still, they could try to live as comfortably and as best they could until it was no longer possible, either due to enemies living or dead. 

At that moment she heard the moans and reached for the binoculars she carried around. Across at the far side of the prison, the Walkers were piling up, putting strain on the outer fences. As she watched, several in the front row were crushed against the metal rungs and the blood started flowing. “Dammit.” She muttered to herself. 

“What?” Rick’s voice came from behind and startled her. The binoculars almost slipped from her hands. 

“Down there, by the outer fence, they're piling up again. Not sure if the supports we put up last week are gonna hold” She nudged him with her elbow and went to hand him the binoculars.

“Hang on.” He said and at that moment, Carol noticed he had a bottle of bourbon tucked under his arm as he attempted to set it on the ground. He swayed slightly as the bottle was placed at his feet.

“Where did you get that?!” She asked quietly, but with a dangerous tone. Rick knew he was going to get reprimanded.

“Hey, my wife died – I thought I was free of nagging.” He laughed as he looked through the eyepiece. “Yep, they're certainly stacking up there.” He observed blithely as he handed the binoculars back.

Carol grabbed them and set them down before she choked him with the strap. “How much have you had? For Christ sake, Rick, you have responsibilities to your son. Your daughter.”

“Jeez. Ok Lori.” He snickered, picking up the bottle, unscrewing the lid and taking a swig. “You sound just like her.” 

Carol rubbed her face and studied him. “I get it Rick, I do. When I lost Sophia, I honestly thought I might as well be dead too. Considered just laying down and letting the dead have me. But then I decided to be strong and live on for her. I was so weak and scared while she was alive, I wasted so much time setting her the wrong example of how a woman should be that now, I will be damned if I'm gonna let her memory down by being the victim ever again. You loved Lori, I know that. She knew that. But all of this isn't gonna bring her back and it sure as hell isn’t how she'd want you to be. She'd chew your ass off for this if she were here. And you know it.” 

Rick sighed, “I shut her out, I thought I hated her and she never got to know I did still love her before…before…”

Carol grabbed Rick by the arm and directed him over the deserted eating area so that he could sit out of the sun on one of the salvaged benches they'd sourced. 

They sat side by side on the bench with a table behind them and Carol could still here the groans from the weaken fence area. She sat in silence for a moment. They had all tried to bring Rick round. He'd even told Hershel that he was seeing visions of his dead wife and had been speaking to their dead friends on a dead telephone line. This could be beyond anyone's expertise. She opened her mouth to try again but he cut her off. 

“Sophia knew you loved her; she knew she was the most important thing in the world to you. You know she never doubted that, you never gave her cause to. It was different for Lori. She thought, she thought I detested her.” He put his hands to his face and pressed his fingers to his eyes. 

Carol relented slightly. “Drinking isn't gonna do any good. No one ever solved their problems that way.” She rubbed his arm. “Where did you find that anyway?”

Rick rolled the bottle from one hand to the other. “It was wedged down the side of one of the desks in the administration building.” He placed it on the ground between is cowboy boots. “I know it isn't the answer but I can't switch off from my own head. I can't forget, I've tried spending time with the kids and everybody else. I've tried keeping busy, tried building and going on runs. My mind just goes back there, constantly. I rejected her the last time she tried to reach out to me. How am I ever going to make peace with that?”

Carol took a deep breath. “If I had the answer to that, I'd bottle it and you could drink it instead of that stuff. I honestly don't know how to help you. If I could take it all away for you, I would. Any of us would, Rick. We're all worried about you. Taking off alone into the woods. Anything could happen. Your daughter needs her daddy. Carl needs to see you coping. Kids are resilient but he's been through a lot. We need to plan and be ready for whatever storm comes next, because there will be one. You can't just be a farmer, Rick.” 

Rick sighed heavily and hung his head. The he reached for the bottle again and took a deep swig. “Everything you say makes sense and I'd be saying the same thing to any one of you guys. I know I would.” He nodded to himself and drank again. 

Starting to feel a little panicked, Carol wondered if she should go get Hershel, knowing he might be better equipped to deal with alcohol related problems. 

She'd never been much of a drinker and the smell of bourbon reminded her of Ed along with a lot of painful incidents. 

Rick stood and swung one leg over the bench so that he sat astride it as if he was on a horse. He drank from the open bottle again and looked around. 

“All of this,” he gestured with the bottle. “We built it together. Wasn't just me. We did it as a family. You don't need me to be making all the decisions. You and the council are more than capable of running the show.” 

“Rick, you don't get to just check out! We do need you. We all need you to work with us to keep building this place up. The survivors of Woodbury need to see you leading. We're bound to take in new people and you're smart, and brave, you're a natural leader. You need to take your place at the head of the council so that we can discuss taking things forward without letting our guard down! This is just self pity. Lori did know you loved her, she discussed the situation a thousand times with me. She was sorry for everything that happened, but she knew you'd be strong enough to raise your baby without her if the worst happened.” 

Rick stood and studied her while swaying slightly. He then attempted to put the cap on his bottle. 

“Did you eat breakfast?” She asked. He shook his head with a wobble. She sighed. “Drinking on an empty stomach – are you a frat boy now?” She stood. “C’mon. I think you need to sleep this off. Give me that damn bottle.” She grabbed the bourbon and slammed it on the picnic table. “C’mon. Lean on me.”

Rick flung an arm around her slender shoulders. “I'm fine.” He slurred. “I'm fine.”

“I'm pretty sure everyone knows you're not.” She grimaced as she tied to progress as smoothly as possible through the courtyard door, across the main atrium and along to Rick’s cell. 

Once there, she helped manoeuvre him onto his bed. “Better take these off.” She crouched down and lifted his right leg up to remove his boot and then his left. He watched her while she did it. 

“You got tan,” he observed. “Suits you.”

Carol set his battered cowboy boots under the sink in his cell. “Gee thanks.” She said sarcastically, still a little mad. “Now, you get some rest, a good sleep might help you feel better. I'll go get a water jug to put by your bed. You're probably going to wake up with a mouth as dry as a camel’s foot.” She turned to leave but he reached up to get a hold of her wrist. 

“You take care of everybody, Carol. I watched you, all winter on the road, you'd have gone without to give to others. Make sure you don't forget to put yourself first sometimes. I don't know what most of us here would do without you. A lot of the ideas and improvements were your ideas. Daryl told me.” 

Carol smiled. “It's all a team effort but we can't wait to have you back in the driving seat.”  
Rick stood and opened his arms for a hug. “I'm sorry you had to deal with me like this. I'm an ass.” 

She leaned into him and placed her arms around his waist as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. 

He buried his head in her neck & she felt a tear on the skin of her collarbone. They stood like that for a few moments. She gingerly patted his back, feeling the hug was lingering. The smell of the liquor and Rick’s intoxication made fingers of anxiousness grasp her insides. Too many bad memories of times past. 

He raised his head from her and said again, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't be putting this on you. You've been through enough.” 

Carol smiled and felt her own eyes fill up at his evident pain. “Oh Rick,” she wiped away a tear from his left cheek with her hand. “Stop saying sorry. There's nothing to apologise for. We just need to help you through it.” 

He nodded and looked at her mouth for a moment. He put a hand to her neck and leaned in to kiss her. 

“Woah!” She stepped backwards out of his arms, pushing him off at the same time. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Rick raised his hands, “I'm sorry, Carol, I'm so sorry. I-I-I didn't know what I was thinking. Please, I'm so sorry.” He moved toward her again and she inched back another step.

“It's ok.” She caught his eye. “You're not yourself and you're crazy with grief. We all make stupid choices at times like this. Let's forget it. You lay down and sleep.” She gestured to the door, eager to leave. “I'll go finish my laundry now.” 

As she slipped past him, he rubbed his eyes with his hand. “Carol, wait….”

“I told you, forget it!” She called back over her shoulder as she practically ran back to the yard.   
Rick threw himself down and punched the base of the bunk above him. “Goddamitt!!” He put his hand to his head as outside his room he heard Ty shout a greeting to Carol which went ignored. 

Ty popped his head through the sheet at the door of the cell. “Everything ok in here, Chief?”

“No, it's not!” Rick drawled, a slur in his voice. Ty backed up, feeling he entering was in dangerous territory and retreated. 

“And I ain't your fucking Chief!!” roared the sheriff, pulling his thin pillow out from under himself and placing it over his face. 

T~B~C


	6. Chapter 6 - The Talk 2.0

The caravan of scavengers from the prison set off in a Westerly direction. They were tasked with sourcing food, wood suitable for building, fabric and general supplies they rapidly ran out of, as well as items needed for the approaching winter. 

The real task was to find medical equipment and any type of associated products, such as bandages, ointments and medications. They rolled down the main highway they had travelled along numerous times on their regular runs. Michonne was in front on her horse, then the pickup, with Daryl at the rear on his bike. 

Occasionally Daryl roared ahead to scout the area, relishing the opportunity to hit the gas and clear his mind for a few minutes. Michonne was constantly preoccupied with looking for signs as to the whereabouts of the Governor. She was desperate to kill him in revenge for everything he had done to her and her friends, especially Andrea.

Glenn, driving the pickup, fiddled with the stereo. He hated driving in silence and insisted upon playing the few CDs they had at an acceptable volume. 

He slipped in a Driving Anthems CD and waited for the music to start as he felt Zack, who was in the passenger seat, turn to look at him. 

The younger man opened his mouth as if to speak but seemed to have a change of heart. The opening intro of ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ flowed from the stereo as Sasha groaned in the back seat and Bob clapped his hands together in glee, it was one of his favourites.

Glenn glanced over as Zack leaned with one arm out of the open window. “Spit it out then.”

“What?” Zack looked startled. “Oh, it doesn't matter, wasn't important.”

Glenn shook his head, his eyes on the road. “C’mon man. It's not like I haven't heard this song a million times in the last few months. Something bothering you or….?”

Zack pulled his arm back inside the car and his shoulders slumped. “It's Beth.”

“Oh boy.” Glenn grimaced. 

“One minute, she's super keen and all over me, the next, she's all one word answers or ignoring me. Wasn't even interested that I was coming out here today. I don't know what the hell is going on with her. I mean, does she like me or am I just a way to pass the time? It's driving me crazy so I was going to ask for your advice. You know, you being with Maggie and her being Beth’s sister. Thought you could give me an insight into the Greene mentality.” 

Glenn snorted. “It's no good asking me for advice when it comes to the ladies. I have no idea how I managed to get with someone as awesome as Maggie.” He gave Zack as small smile. “But if it helps, she did blow hot and cold with me at the start too. I didn't know which Maggie I was gonna get half the time. And for the record, I'd say Beth does really like you”

Zack leaned back against the headrest, “You think it's just mind games, maybe?”

“I don't know, man” Glenn groaned. “But if you want advice on girls, you'd be best asking the advice of a girl.” Glenn motioned with his head to Sasha in the backseat. As Zack turned to look at her, she laughed. 

Before she could say anything, Bob piped up. “If I could go back in time and give the seventeen year old version of me one piece of advice, this would be it. Listen up.”  
He leaned forward in his seat which was directly behind Glenn, a big smile on his face. “I'd say, that when it comes to the fairer sex, any time you think you're wrong, you are wrong. And anytime you think you are right….you're wrong.”

Zack looked to Glenn and then Sasha in confusion and gave a small laugh, “What?”

“You just have to embrace the chaos and confusion, my friend.” Bob explained, still leaning forward in his seat motioned out of the windscreen in front of him with his hand. “They are as changeable and thrilling as the weather. The sunshine you get is worth the storms.” He then spread his hands as though he had imparted some celestial knowledge and looked around at Sasha. “Am I right?”

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, you better believe it.” She caught Zack’s eye and winked, her pretty face lit up with humour. 

Zack looked from her, to Bob and back to Glenn. They were all in high spirits when they heard a bang on the roof of the cab. Daryl had appeared beside the truck on his bike. No one had noticed him pull up alongside the truck. Glenn cut the engine. 

“What's all the hootin’ and laughin’ about?” He asked as he leaned his arm on Glenn’s window. “Sounds like a mother’s meetin’ in there. Know how much noise you damn women are makin’?”

Zack leaned forward. “We were talking about matters of the heart, Mr Dixon.” 

Daryl eyeballed each of the passengers in turn, before addressing Glenn. “We gotta job to do. This ain't no road trip. And it sure ain’t no damned romantic comedy movie shit neither. Keep your mind on the job so we can get back to the prison soon as we can.” He kicked up the stand on the bike and gave his friends a stern look. 

Bob muttered “Sure thing, boss” and gave an army salute. 

“You bein’ smart?” Daryl snapped, leaning back into the cab and subjecting Bob to his steely gaze. 

Sasha spoke. “No, not all. We were giving Zack some advice about Beth. It was just to make conversation on the ride. We will be fully focused once we get to the store.” 

“Huh.” Daryl revved his engine and sped off in front of Michonne, who’s horse reared up slightly in shock. She calmed the steed down, turned and shot a look of indignation to Glenn. 

He shrugged and grimaced but started the engine of the truck again. 

They started off again. ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ started up.

“What's up with him?” Zack wondered aloud. 

“Not getting any.” Bob deadpanned and they all laughed again. 

~

They reached the large red brick building around noon. Michonne had scouted it out on her last lonely mission out to try to bring her own brand of justice to Philip Blake, the man known more commonly as the Governor. 

At some point during the initial ‘outbreak’ a makeshift Army base must have been located in the parking lot of the store. There was long abandoned folding tables and cordons and paraphernalia littered around amongst the rotting corpses of the Walkers whom Michonne had put down previously. 

Glenn pulled up as close to the main doors as possible, reversing in so they had the pickup ready to load up and go. Daryl parked next to it and Michonne secured Blaze’s straps to the railings of the building. 

They all congregated at the large store windows once they'd gathered their kits together. Sasha made her way to the door and rattled on it, listening and waiting for the now familiar sounds of the dead. She then elected to take Bob with her to scout the rest of the building for other exits. 

Daryl leaned against the window, almost letting his weariness overcome him. He wasn't sure he had the energy for this but his friends needed him. 

He just wanted to get back home, get back to her. If only he could sleep, maybe he’d feel more relaxed. 

He spotted something sparkling in the gutter, leaned down and scooped it up, examining it. Jasper. He rolled it around his fingers and thought for a moment before slipping it into his pants pocket and leaning back against the window. 

Glenn approached him cautiously, “Hey, Daryl. I know you hate talking about things, but, are you…are you ok, man?”

“Yeah,” Daryl answered, lighting up a cigarette. He took a drag and narrowed his eyes as he scrutinised his friend. “Why?”

“You just don't seem your usual self. You seem a bit….distracted.” Glenn looked around nervously as though regretting starting the conversation. “I just think we have enough to worry about with the whole Rick thing. We kind of need everyone operating at full capacity.”

Daryl exhaled, turned and leaned his head against the window. “I just got a bad feeling. Like something is gonna go wrong soon. Back home.” He shrugged slightly, feeling stupid. “Can't sleep much. Never could before, but I feel on edge. Pathetic, I know.”

“It's not pathetic at all,” Glenn took a deep breath, “I wouldn't be any kind of friend if I didn't ask you this and risk my head being bitten off, but, do wanna talk about it, maybe?” 

Daryl looked to the ground, kicking it slightly with his boot. He sighed and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He took one last puff of his cigarette before dropping it and crushing it underfoot. He crossed his arms across his chest and shifted his weight. “I just got somethin’ on my mind. Besides the bad feeling. Maybe that second part is all in my head” He tapped his temple and looked at his friend, “Fuck,” he sighed, “Maybe the first part is too, I don't know. Can't figure shit out.”

“The first thing you got on your mind, is it…..is it something or someone?” Glenn leaned in and lowered his voice as he asked the last part of the question. 

Daryl muttered something Glenn didn't quite catch under his breath and shook his head, chewing his lip. 

“Did you just say ‘she's in my head’?” Glenn straightened slightly and placed a friendly hand on Daryl’s arm. “Like I told Zack, I'm not much good with advice, especially about women, but if it helps, I am sure she feels the same about you too. You two are like two peas in a pod. A duo. Like mac’n’cheese. You just fit. Always have, since Atlanta. You know it, I know it. We all know it.”

“You get yourself a girlfriend and suddenly you're running around fixing everyone else's problems?” Daryl chuckled slightly and nudged Glenn to let him know he wasn't mad at the prying. “I dunno. Dunno know how to deal with any of this shit.”

“Look,” Glenn spoke earnestly “You didn't see how totally devastated she was when you left us for Merle. She was so upset, she was beside herself. Rick couldn't console her, none of us could until she'd cried it out. And we all know, she always believed in you, even when you didn't believe in yourself. If that's not love, I don't know what is.” 

“She'd be upset at anyone leavin’” countered Daryl.

“Not like that,” Glenn was stern, his eyes alive. “She reached out to you and made sure you were always a part of the group. She'd never be without any of us, but you especially. Not again, not after you came back without Merle. You guys have this connection, you don't even have to speak.”

Daryl thought back to the farm when he was in turmoil and considering taking off, just after Sophia stumbled out of the barn. Carol almost knew what he was thinking, it freaked him out a little, truth be told, it was like she could read his mind. She pulled him back into her orbit and back to the people he now considered the family he craved. Without her, he'd probably have ended up following Merle to certain death. 

“How do you even know who she is?” Daryl teased. “Could be talking about different women.” 

Glenn rolled his eyes with good humour, “Oh, come on! Carol is always on your mind. That moment, that scene, back at the prison? I don't know how any of us didn't shout out ‘Kiss her!’” His smile dropped. “You gotta sort your shit out, man. Really, we could all be dead tomorrow, you know that, right?”

Daryl sighed, remembering their losses and how quickly life could be snuffed out. He was about to answer as Bob and Sasha approached after walking the perimeter of the building. It had been good talking to the friend he had known since the early days of the end of the world. Like some chinks of light had chipped through that wall of his.

“Where's Zack?” Bob asked, looking around. “Immediate area is surprisingly clear.”

“He's checking out those Army tents with Michonne.” Glenn gestured down the parking lot. 

“We'll continue this talk later.” He gave Daryl a serious look as Bob called to the other two members of their group. 

“Can't wait.” Daryl muttered, his hand on the jasper stone in his pocket, as he followed his friend to the main entrance. 

~ 

Once inside, they immediately set about gathering the items they needed. Daryl heard to the baby aisle, clearing the shelves of diapers and formula. Bob and Sasha gathered all foodstuffs, Michonne found a pharmacy and with Zack’s help, they stripped it clean. After several trips to the truck, they decided to make one last sweep of the shop. 

While the others were checking the back rooms of the building, and Zack was looking for batteries, Bob lingered near the wine racks. They had taken several bottles of both red and white wine, the adults back the prison often savoured a glass with meals. Bob enjoyed drinking for an entirely different reason. He found he needed alcohol to sleep and to relax. He was starting to need it more and more, he had a number of bottles of differing liquor stashed around various locations at home. He'd been the lone survivor of two groups before Daryl picked him up off the road weeks back. Bob thought there was nothing worse than surviving death, but sometimes the noise of living got to much, but he couldn't stand the quiet either. He picked up a bottle of Merlot so deep red, it was almost black. He didn't care what he drank, so long as it helped him feel less, think less, remember less. Thinking about the others on this trip brought a sudden flash of guilt. He was selfish, standing here wallowing in his own problems – any of the others could seek peace at the bottom of a bottle, they'd all survived horrors – he was just weaker than them. 

Feeling sickened, he slammed the bottle down. Damp conditions must have weakened the wood because the shelf gave way, but then the whole stand tipped backwards into the shelving behind. 

Bob watched in horror at the domino effect which occurred. To him, it was in slow motion and the noise was like several bombs going off. Wooden units crashed into metal ones. Glenn rushed from the opposite side of the store with the others running after him. All except Zack who was in the line of the final wooden stand. 

“Zack!!” Glenn screamed as the boy was frozen to the spot, horror on his face. Glenn grabbed his arm and tried to pull him out of danger. He almost succeeded, but Zack’s left leg took the crushing weight of the shelves and he was pulled from Glenn’s grasp. “Shit!”

Zack screamed in pain and landed heavily on the floor, hitting the left side of his head on the floor with an indescribable sound. He was instantly knocked out. 

The aftermath brought shocked silence amongst the dust, everyone too shocked to move. The silence seemed louder than what had come before. Then came the familiar sound of a cold body hitting the window at the front of the store, followed by two more.

“The noise…must have brought them.” Michonne said in a flat, stunned voice before heading for Zack. She knelt down woodenly and put two fingers to his neck. “He's alive. You guys try to see how badly he's trapped and I'll go get rid of the Walkers. We're going to have to figure a way to get him out from under there and home.” Her dark eyes looked up at each of them. “Come on, get going.” She raised her voice with urgency. Then she stood and unsheathed her katana. She made her way to the main exit; to get in they'd covertly smashed the bottom glass panel of the main doors. 

The dead hadn't seemed to grasp the concept of crouching to get under obstacles, but at the moment there was six of them gathered at the window. They would keep coming as they did at the fences of the prison, piling up until the sheer weight of them produced results.  
Daryl nudged Glenn and they both approached the heap of of materials covering their stricken friend. The only sound at the moment was from Michonne’s sword slicing through decaying flesh. 

“What a fuckin’ mess. Need to work fast. The metal shelving shouldn't be too heavy to move between us, though.” Daryl observed, keeping his voice to a murmur.

“We'll have to start from the top and shift everything off him one piece at a time.” Sasha said as moved around to have a better look at the devastation. As a firefighter, she had experience in dealing with devastation such as this.“Bob, you lift from that side with Glenn, Daryl, you come round this side. We'll lift it off and move together to try to stop anything that's loose falling on him and doing more damage.” She looked close to tears as she regarded Zack underneath the debris.

Ashen-faced Bob moved silently to his position, not trusting himself to say a word.   
“Lets do this,” said Glenn solemnly. 

It took forty minutes to remove everything pining Zack in place. His left leg was oozing blood in several places and the ankle turned at an impossible angle, the shelves obviously catching his trailing leg as he had turned to run. Michonne had stood guard outside against any passing Walkers attracted by the noise of their task.

Zack was still unconscious. Sasha checked his pulse again. “He's still with us and I don't think he's in any danger of bleeding out, he hasn't cut any major artery. Could be a fractured ankle or broken bones but then he hit his head pretty hard. Do you think we should strap his leg to a splint?” She looked around at the others. 

“Yeah.” Daryl took charge. “Glenn, you go find something we can use to strap his leg to.” He began removing his checked shirt. Taking his army knife from his pocket, he started cutting it into strips. “Lucky I put a t-shirt on under this thing today.” 

Glenn returned with a pole that would have been used by gardeners to grow tall plants and crops such as tomatoes. 

Between them they managed to secure Zack’s leg just before Michonne knocked on the window. Glenn ran over to her.

“There's a fairly big herd headed down the street, they'll be at the parking lot in a few minutes. Can you start moving him?” She was peering in to the scene in the shop over Glenn’s shoulder.   
“We'll have to. Can you keep an eye on the herd?” asked Glenn. Michonne nodded and moved toward the truck to better see the advancing dead. 

“We heard.” Daryl said as Glenn approached the group. They got hold of Zack, two of them at each side and lifted him. Daryl had to support the boy’s head at the same time. As they got to the door, they realised they were unable to manoeuvre Zack out of the bottom panel of the door. 

“Forget the door. One of us will have to shoot out a window,” Sasha said, “Let me lower his good leg a second and I'll do it.”

They all knew they could not avoid the sound of a gunshot and shattering glass; the Walkers were coming regardless. Once Sasha had Zack’s uninjured leg back in her grasp, they climbed out of the window two at a time, one at each side. 

At the truck they noticed Michonne had moved some supplies to the cab so that Zack could lie in the flatbed. “Best I could do.” She said once she'd hurried back over. “Someone will have to ride in the back with him. Just in case.” Everyone understood her implication.

“I will,” said Glenn as he lowered the door and climbed in. 

The others placed Zack on board as quickly as they could. “Quick!” Glenn shouted. The sound of the Walkers grew closer. The leaders of the group of the dead were almost at the top of the parking lot. 

Sasha jumped into the driving seat of the truck with Bob at the passenger side. Daryl hopped onto his bike and kicked up the stand as Michonne rushed to untie Blaze the horse. The pickup started off for home, and Daryl looked round to check on his remaining friend. 

“’Shonne!” He cried as a Walker appeared from nowhere and reached for the horse. He grabbed his bow to shoot but he was too slow. The horse reared up in panic.

“Blaze!!” Michonne screamed and she made to grab her sword.

Daryl shouted “It's too late!! C’mon!!”

Michonne ran to him, then turned back to look at her horse as another Walker sunk it's teeth into the creature’s neck. “No!” She cried. 

“C’mon!!!” Daryl bellowed as he shot an approaching Walker coming at him from the other side of the lot. 

Spurred into action, the sword woman ran and jumped onto the waiting bike and they tore off, her tears drying in the wind almost as soon as they fell from her eyes.

 

T~B~C


	7. Homecoming

Carol had finished the laundry and had dinner duty to look forward to. She enjoyed preparing and cooking meals for everyone more than her earlier task. It was approaching early evening and dinner had to be spiced rices with grains and some tomatoes they had managed to grow over the summer. She was waiting for Maggie to appear as her right hand woman. 

The sun had just set and the sky was still alight with burnt orange tinted clouds, a breeze playing with the ends of the tarpaulin which enclosed the outdoor eating and cooking area. They couldn't run the generators long enough to use the main prison kitchens so this was the best solution to that problem. 

“Hey, sorry I'm late. I was clearin’ Walkers from that congestion down by the outer fence.” Maggie approached and fastened an apron around her waist. “How are you?”

“I'm fine.” Carol smiled. She didn't feel ‘fine’ and her mind cast back to Daryl talking about having a feeling something bad was on the horizon. Now, she felt her senses on high alert. 

Maggie started chopping tomatoes. “Wonder when we'll get some meat to work with? I miss meat. I miss burgers and fries at the mall. I miss going to the mall. I miss my phone and my computer and I miss college work. Never thought I'd say that.” She laughed. 

“Mmmm.” Carol agreed. “I was saying to Carl a while ago; I miss noise, traffic, jumbo jets. I miss my washing machine.” She glanced at Maggie with good humour. “I miss my vibrator.”

Maggie threw her head back and laughed. “Ms Peletier!!” She nudged Carol “There's always something you could do about it!”

“Ask someone to pick me one up on a run? Oh sure!” Carol snorted with laughter. “I'll put it on the list!”

Maggie pointed her knife at her friend in mock seriousness, “Nooooo. Ask a certain redneck to help you out in that department. He'd not say no.” 

Carol exaggerated shock and was speechless for a moment and then laughed. “He'd run a mile.”  
“Uh-oh. Someone's in denial.” Maggie went back to chopping. “He massages your shoulders whenever they're sore. He offers to, for God sake! And I have never known him to touch anyone else voluntarily. He stares at you all of the damn time! You two just need to get your act together.”

Carol was about to reply when the warning signal came from the main gate. 

The two women looked at each other and abandoned dinner to run down towards the sound. 

“Carl’s down there, on gate duty.” Maggie breathed as they ran. 

Carol could hear the footsteps of others coming to investigate, running behind them. 

Once at the main gate, the pickup sat, doors open and a bustle of activity, Daryl's bike parked to the rear. 

“What's going on?!” Maggie shouted. 

Glenn and Bob were carrying a prone Zack with Daryl and Sasha carrying him from the other side and Michonne had hold of his shoulders. 

“He had an accident. His leg looks pretty bad. Might be broken but he's been passed out since it happened. We'll need Hershel quick.” Daryl informed them, directing the details to Carol, who had been building up her medical knowledge from the elderly vet. 

Carol nodded, turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could back up to the prison to prepare their ‘medical’ room which was a housed in the old prison infirmary.

Maggie walked alongside the group. 

Glenn looked at her. “We got medical supplies, they're in truck.” His wife quickly ran down to the truck to gather everything they had found. 

As they headed for the infirmary, Ty approached and asked if there was anything he could do but Daryl gave him short shrift. 

Once in the treatment room they filled Hershel in on the accident and advised him that Zack hadn't woken at all on the way home. 

The vet nodded solemnly and dismissed everyone from the room except Carol. He rolled up his sleeves and set to work. 

~ 

In the main atrium of the prison, Maggie rushed to Glenn when she saw him and swept him into a hug. “Are you ok?” She whispered in his ear as he nodded and clung to her. 

Daryl watched them as he made his way to go back to the truck, the jasper stone had been transferred to his jacket pocket and he rolled it in his hand now. 

He wished he had someone to run to, someone to embrace him whenever he returned. Someone to lean on….he stopped for a moment and caught himself before he started down that road in his mind. They had other things to deal with. 

Glenn was telling Maggie how Zack came to be injured and he suddenly stopped. “Where's Beth? She doesn't know. Zack really likes her, he’d want her to know.” 

“She's got Judith,” Maggie informed them, “She's may be in Carol's cell though.”

“I'll tell her,” Daryl said from the door. “I shoulda looked after the kid better out there.” Before anyone could protest, he turned and left the room, heading for Carol's cell. 

“Where's Rick?” enquired Glenn. 

Maggie shrugged, grasping her husband’s wrist and tracing the outline of a bloodstain on his skin, “Out in the woods. He was mutterin’ to himself earlier, could have sworn at lunch that he smelled of whiskey.”

Glenn grimaced and kissed his wife's forehead before they headed to the shower block to clean him up.

~ 

Judith was sleeping soundly in the cot in Carol’s cell while Beth worked on her sheets of music and diary when Daryl approached. 

“Carol said it was ok for me to lay Judith down in this cot whenever,” She explained to him, sitting up on the bed and placing her music on her lap, as though he'd caught her somewhere she shouldn't be. 

“I know,” he nodded, leaning against the wall of the doorway. 

“Judith prefers it in here in general but she likes this cot better than the one in Rick’s room….wait,” her words faded as she caught the look on his face. “You're back early. Is everyone ok? Is it Glenn? Is he…”

Daryl put up a hand to stop her. “Glenn's fine. It's Zack.”

“Oh.” The young girl said, sweeping the stray strands of her hair from her eyes. She took a deep breath. “Tell me.”

Daryl explained what had happened and that Hershel and Carol were working on her boyfriend’s injuries in the infirmary, and that she could see him as soon as she could. 

“At least he's alive, Daddy will patch him back together,” she sighed. “I'll let them work and then I'll go see him and show him the song I wrote him. Thanks for telling me. You didn't have to. Suppose it's part of your code. To be the bringer of news.”

“My code?” Daryl repeated, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“Yeah,” Beth scribbled on the loose pages on her knee. “When you left with your brother, I was mad because I thought we'd be weak without you against the Governor.” She glanced up guiltily. “I told Carol I was pissed at you.” The girl looked at him sheepishly, “She said not to be because you have a code. And that this world needs more men like you.” 

Daryl looked puzzled for a moment. “She said that?”

“Yep.” Beth nodded. “I kinda think she knew you'd come back. You wouldn't abandon us. That would be against your code. She knows you cos here you are.” She gave a small smile as though she was unsure about telling him.

Daryl felt his cheeks flush, thinking about Carol defending him, even through her upset at him leaving. 

Aware that he was blushing in front of a kid, he pushed himself off the wall. “Someone'll come get ya when you can see him. Just don't wear him out with love songs. It's not a damn romance novel around here.” He tried to keep his tone light so she'd know he wasn't being entirely serious. His ‘romance novel’ phrase was becoming well worn, matters of the heart were escalating all around him. 

People were coupling up and their close quarters contributed to relationships forming. Even Carl had a crush on the girl before him.

Beth made a sound like a laugh but he thought she probably wanted to throw herself onto the bed and weep. 

Judith stirred and cried as though sensing the young girl’s distress. “She needs feedin’” Beth said, her voice thick with emotion. 

“I'll take her. I'll find her daddy and he can see to her.” Daryl gathered the infant up, aware that his jacket had blood on. He set her down again and she cried out. “Ok, ok, ass kicker. Just takin’ off my stinky jacket.” He hung it on the back of the chair next to the bookcase. “Here we go.” He whispered as she settled back in his arms, while he looked back at Beth. “Zack’ll be fine. He'll be expecting a whole lot of sympathy once he's awake.” 

Beth nodded vigorously as her eyes filled with tears. Daryl turned and set off to find Rick, hoping that Zack would come through relatively unscathed, if it was a broken leg, it would have to heal as best it could without a chalk. 

~


	8. Meeting Adjourned

The next evening saw the council gathering for their bi-weekly meeting.   
Every Tuesday and Saturday, in the Library, Hershel, Glenn, Daryl, Sasha, Maggie, and Carol sat around a circular table and discussed issues in order or importance. Today, Daryl sat backwards on his chair, resting his chin on the top of the backrest. 

Zack had regained consciousness two hours after Hershel had examined his leg and decided it was a broken femur. Carol had helped clean him up and disinfect his other lacerations, as well as bandaging his head. 

He was currently resting in a bed in the infirmary, with ‘nurse’ Beth attending to his every need, such was her concern at his condition. The young boy was no longer in any doubt as to her feelings and was secretly quite thrilled, though still weak and in pain.

They discussed the arrangements for upcoming scheduled runs and set out routes which ensured the greatest chance of uncovering the supplies they needed most. 

Daryl noticed Carol was unusually quiet and subdued. Late the previous night he had called by her room to retrieve his jacket. He found that she'd cleaned it up, removing every trace of blood, stone still in his pocket. He then transferred it to the left inner pocket, near his heart. It reminded him of her and those eyes of hers for some reason. After thanking her, he'd checked if she was coping after the scare with Zack. At that point she confessed that she too felt a sense of unease, she shared his feeling that something bad was looming. 

He studied her profile now, whilst Sasha discussed her proposal to post a lookout in a second tower around the clock. 

Carol was looking down at her hands and seemed lost in thought. She was wearing a black sweat top and skinny charcoal jeans tucked in her boots, her knuckle knife resting on the table in front of her. Suddenly she looked up and caught him in the act before she averted her eyes again. He shifted in his chair and turned his attention back to Sasha. 

Glenn and Maggie had noticed and a knowing look passed between them. 

Sasha finished speaking and everyone agreed to the plan. 

“Now.” Hershel spoke in sombre tones. “We need to discuss something, which we have talked about before, but the situation isn't getting any better.”

He looked around the table.

“Rick.” Glenn said with a sigh. 

Carol wished she had skipped this meeting. She didn't want to have to discuss this.

The others suggested strategies to try to bring their leader back to normality, all of which had been tried over the previous weeks. 

“He's drinking,” Carol blurted out without thinking, mainly to stop them going over and over the same points, their repeated strategies hurting her brain.

They all stopped and looked to her.

“This is what I feared.”Hershel had genuine sadness in his voice. “When?”

Carol kept her eyes on the table. “He had a bottle of bourbon just after the run left yesterday morning. Came out in the yard while I was washing. Luckily none of the kids were around. He was swigging from it on an empty stomach. I tried to talk to him but he was more self pitying than ever.”

Hershel took in the information. “When I was drinkin’ and feelin’ sorry for myself, I'd be a vile son of a bitch. Did he….I mean, was he a nasty drunk?”

“No, he wasn't violent or nasty.” Carol shrugged. “Quite the opposite.” 

Daryl’s intuition kicked in just from the tone of her voice; she was upset about something. “Whaddya mean?” he asked, still using the tone of voice he reserved for her but his eyes narrowing. 

Carol sighed and resigned herself to having to tell them. They had to confront this spiral Rick was in. “He was slurring and swaying, so I told him to go lie down in his cell. I took the bottle from him but he was worse for wear so I helped him back inside. When we I got him back there he cried on my shoulder and hugged me, apologising. Then, I think, he kind of went to kiss me.” She pulled at the sleeves of her jumper miserably and rested her head in her hands, unable to face their reactions. She felt almost embarrassed herself, uncomfortable at having their attention focused on her.

Maggie put a hand to her mouth in shock. 

“What?” Daryl tilted his head as though he hadn't quite heard, but the anger was clear in his deadly calm voice. 

Immediately thinking the anger was directed at her, she raised her head almost scared to look in his eye, afraid the most important person in her life was mad at her.. “Maybe I panicked and maybe he wasn't going to. It happened so fast….and….I just remember he put a hand to the back of my head. He pulled me towards him and he leaned in so I jumped back…..”

“What?!” Daryl exploded, but Hershel put a hand on the younger man's broad shoulder, keeping him in place.

Hershel exhaled. “You did the right thing telling us. Now we need to decide how to approach it.”

“Nah,” Daryl slapped the table with his hand, the sound making everyone jump then shrugged off the old man's grasp and jumped out of his seat, eyes ablaze. “You talk all you want, I'm gonna go sort this shit out.” He strode out of the room and Glenn pushed his seat back quickly and followed.

In the corridor, Glenn shouted, “Daryl, wait! You can't go in all guns blazing, you could make things worse.”

“Worse??” Daryl spun round, furious. “Worse?! She's upset, you can see that.” He pointed wildly in the direction of the library. “He can't do shit like that, man! What if he'd pulled that shit on Maggie?! Huh??!”

Glenn stuttered, “Well, I’d….I’d….”

“Uh-huh.” Daryl shouted as Hershel appeared to try to calm the fire burning in the hunter he had come to consider almost a son. “Or Beth??” He asked shifting his attention to the old man. “What if she’d been takin’ Judith in to him, he turned on the tears and next thing, he’s lunging at her? It ain't alright and it ain't ok and I ain't standing for it. Treatin’ him with kid gloves ain't workin’!!” His shouting got significantly louder and he punched the wall as he turned and stormed off. 

“Oh shit.” muttered Glenn. “Maybe Daryl is right, maybe Rick needs a confrontation?” He looked around hopefully at his father in law. 

Hershel leaned against the wall. “Maybe,” he stroked his grey beard, “Maybe a good talkin’ to will bring Rick back to his senses. Or maybe it all blows up. I don't like how angry Daryl is. He has a heart of gold but he's not exactly diplomatic. Especially not where,” he mouthed her name, “Carol is concerned.” The old man glanced back towards the Library. “Go find Daryl, son. See if you can keep things in hand. I'm gonna go make sure they're ok in there.”

Glenn nodded, gulped, and took off down the hallway. 

Hershel returned to the room, where everyone had heard the exchange in the hallway. 

“I'm sorry,” Carol said in a whisper pulling at her sleeves. “I shouldn't have said anything.” She felt terrible, and so tired of constant worry. 

Maggie grabbed Carol’s hand. “You have nothing to apologise for. You were trying to help a friend. Rick was out of order!”

Sasha nodded, “If that'd been me, he'd have come away from it with a black eye.”

Carol pulled her mouth into an attempt at a smile and looked to Hershel. 

Hershel had sat back down heavily and ran his hand over his face. “Like I said before, you did the right thing. Can't keep things like this to yourself. And I know how far Rick could sink in his current state. My wife had to lock me out of our bedroom at times, when I was in the grip of it. That's something I will always be ashamed of.”

Maggie spoke, “Should we stay here or…? It's just, I don't know how great Glenn will be at calming things down. I've never seen Daryl so mad.”

“I imagine, if it goes badly, we'll be able to hear it from here.” Hershel remarked calmly, placing his warm hand over Carol's. 

Silence fell over the library. 

~ 

Glenn struggled to catch up to Daryl. His pace was like a bat out of hell. The hunter burst through doors leading to the Library and out to the main courtyard. 

“Hell’s Rick?” He shouted to Ty who was playing a form of basketball with some of the older kids.   
Ty held on to the well used ball. “In the generator room last I saw.” A silence fell as the kids looked from the obviously angry man to their play companion.  
“You ok?” Ty enquired. 

“I'm fine,” Daryl spat as Glenn ran up and pulled at his arm. 

Glenn was breathing hard. “Just take a second and clear your head.”

Daryl yanked his arm and said nothing as he stormed onward to the other side of the prison. He wasn't totally sure if he was more angry at Rick’s behaviour, that it had involved and upset Carol or that she hadn't told him about it the night before. 

He did know that he was about ready to pummel someone into the ground. The red hot anger sizzled through his veins and his teeth ached from grinding his jaw together. He pulled open the door nearest the generator room and it bounced off the opposite wall with a bang. 

Glenn stood in the yard, slumped his shoulders slightly and resigned himself to following. A confrontation was happening whether he liked it or not. He gave Ty a nervous look which the larger man returned as he entered the building an gently closed the door. 

Rick was bent over a large control panel in the abandoned room when Daryl stormed in. His eyes were red and he appeared to have sourced another bottle of liquor from the look of him and the smell. He produced a litre of Tequila from behind the telephone. 

Daryl stormed over and grabbed his friend by the shirt collar. “Wanna drink?” Rick slurred, oblivious to the angry redneck grappling with him, “No glasses. You'll have to swig it straight from the bottle. Don't think I got cooties so you should be ok.” He seemed to find this funny and dissolved into laughter. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Daryl felt the flames of his anger rise, his fists clenching Rick’s stained black shirt. He wasn't a volatile loose cannon as he had been in the years gone by. 

The past few months had taught to him to think first, act later but the red mist was forming over his head and he felt powerless to stop it. “You selfish fuck!” He didn't care what he said or how he said it. Rick had lost control, why should he keep a level head?

“Selfish?” Rick repeated in disbelief. “Selfish? Me?” He drank from the bottle and pushed Daryl away. “I risked my marriage to lead you people and I’m selfish??”

Daryl started pacing to try to avoid punching Rick. He was trying not to fly off the handle, Dixon-style, “You think you're the only one with problems?” He pointed in Rick’s direction, his arm swaying with the excess adrenaline rushing around his body, “Your marriage was shit cos of your own damned best friend and your wife! You think you're the only one who lost somebody they loved? We all have man! Every single one of us on that council, so DO NOT give me that bullshit!!”

Glenn entered the room, surprised that no punches had been thrown. 

Rick laughed to himself and drank again. He mumbled something about Tweedle Dum and Tweddle Dee. 

Glenn spoke as Daryl seethed and paced beside him. He could feel the heat of rage coming off his friend in waves. It was like standing next to a furnace. “We just need to talk this out. Calmly.”

“Why don't you all just leave me alone?!” Rick sneered and gave them both a withering look before he turned away, placing the bottle on the desk. 

“Not what you were sayin’ yesterday when you was cryin’ on Carol’s shoulder and tryin’ kiss her!!” Daryl pointed at Rick in fury. 

“Oh ho,” Rick chuckled, nodding to himself. “That's what this shit is really about.” He shook his head in disbelief and drunkenly fixed his blue eyes on Daryl. 

His beard had grown longer and was flecked with grey. His face looked haggard and he'd lost the clean cut look that he'd had back at the camp. “That's why you come stormin’ in here like someone shot a rocket up your ass. It's because Carol told you I made a pass at her.” He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Listen, let’s just put that to one side,” Glenn tried nervously. 

“Shut up Glenn,” Rick said. “Daryl has a problem with me,” He gestured to the younger Dixon, “So me and him will thrash it out.”

Daryl pointed his finger again and moved towards his friend. “You're a fuckin’ asshole! You're the one with the problem. You can't go around gettin’ drunk and upsettin’ people! You can't go tryin’ t’kiss whoever you damn well please!!”

“Says the petty thief who spent all his time followin’ his good for nothin’ brother around, drinkin’ and harrassin’ people all day long,” Rick shouted. “You we're gonna rob that camp blind at first, you ain't no goddamn saint!”

“You think you can treat people like shit cos you're grievin’! This ain't about me! I ain't a fuckin’ creep. You are!” Daryl narrowed his eyes, moving closer to his best friend until they were chest to chest. 

Rick leaned in to Daryl's ear and whispered, “I think the only person around here who is upset is you. You're mad that I have the balls to make a move on her. Who said it was only cos I was drunk? Maybe I've always had my eye on her, just like you. Only you're too pussy to do anythin’ about it. Woman like that ain't gonna wait around too long for you to get your shit together.”

Glenn moved toward the pair, anticipating trouble as Daryl stared at Rick, his face expressionless. 

“You see,” Rick continued quietly, seemingly intent upon poking the bear, “Difference is, I know how to love a woman without being scared. A woman like Carol needs a real man – someone worthy of her.”

Daryl made as though to walk away, but suddenly spun and then lunged, punching an unprepared Rick on the jaw. The sheriff wheeled backward, dropped the bottle but recovered and grabbed Daryl, pushing him down. They rolled around the filthy floor, exchanging blows, Daryl screaming obscenities and threats. Glenn tried in vain to drag him off Rick but he gained an elbow to the face for his efforts. 

The commotion brought Ty barrelling into the room and he easily pulled Daryl off. “Lemme go!” Daryl shouted as he struggled against the grasp of the much stronger man. 

Glenn grabbed Rick and pulled him to his feet. 

Both men were bloodied and covered in dirt and tequila. “I'll kill him! Swear to God, I'll kick your ass!” Daryl who's eyebrow was bleeding, strained to get at Rick, lashing out with his arms and legs in fury. 

“Take it easy, man,” Ty soothed in Daryl's ear, struggling against the hunter’s movements.

Rick laughed and put his hand to his face, looking bemused to find blood on his fingers. “Least I might be lucky enough to have Carol patch me up…Maybe fightin’ over her will turn her on…..” He let the implication hang in the air as his eyes flicked to Daryl and he laughed again.

Daryl almost appeared to roar and screamed, “I'll fucking kill ya!” He made to leap forward, thwarted by Tyresse holding him back.

“That is not cool.” Glenn said, looking in anger at Rick. “What is wrong with you?”

Rick opened his mouth to reply but at that point the rest of the council appeared at the door, plus Michonne and Carl. 

“Dad?” questioned Carl, looking from him to Daryl. 

“Ah, hell!” Hershel swore, “Haven't you two outgrown this type of thing? You're grown men.”

Daryl was still breathless with anger, his sweaty hair in his eyes. “Keep him out of my way or I'll fuckin’ kill him.” 

Carol pushed her way over, stood in front of him and put a hand to his injured face. 

“Stop this! Come on. To the infirmary. Now.” She ordered, glancing over her shoulder at Rick. “You'll have to be looked at too.”

Rick tilted his hand and used his tongue to poke at his split lip. He winked slowly at her and Daryl exploded again. He tried to reach around Carol, but failed to realise Ty was still at his back, so he was restrained again. 

Carol turned back to Daryl. “Enough!” she commanded, placing her hand on his chest. 

That touch extinguished some of the fire inside him. Daryl stopped struggling and looked at her. “Please,” she whispered her eyes filling with tears. 

He stopped and looked at the floor, partly to calm himself, partly to avoid seeing her cry, he hated it.

“Rick!” Hershel scolded. “You go to your cell, I'll bring a first aid kit along to sort your face out. Sasha, Ty, Maggie, go round the place and try to round up all the bottles of alcohol you can find. See if we can't get this under control. May have to keep the liquor under lock and key for a while.” He moved to the middle of room, and stared at the two men in turn. “This stops, now!” He pointed to the floor with his hand. “There will NOT be a repeat of this ever again. Y’hear?!”

Daryl gave a tiny inclination of his head, but only after glancing up and succumbing to the pleading in Carol’s eyes. Rick shrugged and studied his hands. 

Carol ushered Daryl out of the door. 

Maggie and Sasha exchanged raised eyebrows. Glenn shook his head. “Why’d you bait him like that?” he asked Rick. 

Rick shrugged again, “Cos it's easy,” he slurred and followed Hershel out of the door. 

~


	9. Chapter 9 - Patched Up

The Infirmary was little more than thin mattresses on trollies lined up in a grey room. 

It was always chilly and still held the faint odour of the disinfectant they eked out to keep it as sanitary as they could. 

Zack had been moved back to his own cell that morning to be observed regularly by Hershel throughout each day. 

They had walked in silence through the corridors but Daryl used it to calm himself down. 

The silence was the type of quiet moments the two of them often shared. They didn't need to be constantly making conversation. 

Many evenings, they visited each other's cell, passing the time together. Sometimes they would talk, tease each other, and open up gradually about their pasts. 

Other times, they sat side by side on the bunk, Carol might read, sew, sketch plans for improvements or study medical notes Hershel had made her while Daryl would sharpen his knives, clean his boots or fix up any items given to him by the other inhabitants of the prison. 

Once inside the infirmary he eased himself up onto a bed and she gathered together swabs, bandages and antiseptic lotions. 

“Take your jacket off,” she ordered quietly. 

Daryl desperately wanted to lighten the mood a little, he needed to know she wasn't mad at him and that she wasn't upset. He did as he was told and placed it at the end of the bed. 

He looked timidly at her while she placed her hand under his chin and raised it to get a better look at his battered face. 

“Don't think your nose is broken,” she muttered. 

“It ain't,” he confirmed. “He was too drunk do too much damage.”

Carol muttered, “Hmmm,” as she applied the disinfectant to cotton buds and began cleaning the blood from grazes to his cheeks. 

“Here,” he said meekly, opened his legs and manoeuvred her between them so that she was closer and easily able to turn back to the desk for more pads and lotion. 

He kept his hands on her waist as she tended to him, a hiss escaping from his mouth as the antiseptic got to work. 

She worked silently for the most part, but didn't comment on his hands still holding her in place.

His eyebrow was cut, and he stared at her as she cleaned it, her expression unreadable. 

Daryl racked his mind for something to say to elicit a response from her which would include a smile. 

The thought of her being angry with him or worse, disappointed in him, made him wholly uncomfortable.

“You didn't have to do that,” Carol said as she finished up. 

She hadn't moved from her position. Daryl felt at ease with her closeness for once; he welcomed it. 

Suddenly it dawned on him, even if she disagreed with his actions today, that she'd probably always be on his side. 

That was why she'd brought him here to clean him up. He was her problem, much like Glenn was Maggie’s. 

And she was his to defend, she had been since he'd so selflessly looked for her missing daughter. If the girl were here now, they'd both have his protection. 

They were already a couple of sorts, only needing to take that final step across the line to opening up about their feelings, becoming lovers and making it official. 

He felt the stirrings of excitement at having her between his legs and his dick began to grow stiff.

Immediately he felt slightly inappropriate, but he was human, he was attracted to this woman and his reactions were entirely natural. 

They looked at each other, but both felt unworthy of the other, unaware that each of them was falling deeper and harder, unable to admit it to themselves.

“Couldn't help it. He riled me up.” He explained, his eyes on her mouth. “Why didn't you tell me about this last night?” He asked, his soft voice wondering, looking back to the blue orbs of her eyes.

She bit her lower lip. “Honestly? I just couldn't bring myself to.” She sighed, “After Zack’s accident, it didn't seem the right time to add to the worry. Now here you are, hurt from fighting your best friend over nothing.” She was still trying to stem the blood from his eyebrow.

“Hey,” he started, catching her busy hand, “It wasn't over nothin’. Not in my book. You're allowed to make a big deal outta stuff, don't always have to be so reasonable. Ain't no shame in gettin’ mad at assholes.” He wished he could add that he would take on the world for her, because he would fight even God himself if she was hurt or upset. 

They studied each other and he released her hand though she still looked thoughtful and not entirely happy with him.

Daryl spoke softly, “You can tell me anythin’, whenever you need to. I'm always gonna be here for you,” His eyes travelled back to her mouth, “I'm sorry it upset you. Rick makin’ a pass, me fightin’. All of it.”

“You don't have to apologise, but you could have got hurt. I don't want you to get hurt. Ever,” she replied, finishing up his eye. 

They both knew she was the only person he'd ever apologise to, even if he wasn't in the wrong. 

He was too stubborn to admit he was sorry to anyone else. He was warmed by her words, they added fuel to his hope that she could feel the same as him.

She applied antiseptic once more and added, “You know I'm here for you too.” 

He nodded, but winced. His head ached from the anger earlier and the blows he'd received.

Carol reached for his jacket, “You'll have some tasty bruises on that pretty face of yours.” She teased in her sexy, sassy tone and instantly he knew all was well. 

“Stop,” he fired back as he always did. She chuckled.

“Hey, what's this weight in your pocket?” she asked, fingering the jasper stone through his jacket. 

He stood, taking the jacket. She was still in front of him, they were still close, closer than they'd ever been, their lower bodies touching, though Daryl tried not to dwell on that, lest his excitement began to show. 

“This,” he said reaching in and grasping the object “Is jasper. A stone. Found out on the run. Reminded me of….here, home. So I kept it. You can have it, if you want. It's a pretty colour.” He almost told her how it reminded him of her. 

Carol smiled her little smile. “And I thought you were hoarding chocolate in there,” She looked back at him, “You already gave me a flower, before. You keep it,” she nodded to the stone in his hand and wrapped his fingers around it with her own hand. 

They both knew she had the original Cherokee Rose pressed inside her favourite book as a keepsake; he'd spotted it on one of his visits to her cell. “If you have that, it'll remind you of what you have here, a home, a family, waiting for you when you're out on the road, something to come back to.” Her voice was gentle and a sweet, genuine smile played at her mouth.

His earlier longing for someone to return to flashed in his mind and he knew he already had that special someone, even if she didn't realise that she had the same in him.

Daryl placed the stone back in his pocket, and put his jacket on. He lightly kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes, his arms resting on her shoulders, taking in the words she'd just said. Her hands snaked around his waist. She could hardly believe the amount of touching, and wondered if this was dream. 

They embraced like that for a few minutes. Almost revealing the words he longed to tell her, he felt the them forming around his tongue, echoing through his mind, but at the last second his demons reared their ugly heads and he lost his nerve once again. 

“I'll come along to you later,” he said, above her head, instead of what he wished he could say, “You show me those plans you were working on the other night?”

She moved out of his space and started tidying up. “Sure thing, Pookie,” she replied. 

He felt the familiar thrill of her calling him his pet name, especially since he had found out what it meant from Zack. 

He gently kissed her forehead again, one hand cupping her neck gently and left. 

If Carol had been in one of the romance books she'd found to read, she would have swooned at their latest exchange complete with spontaneous and unsolicited physical signs of affection from her surly redneck friend. “Keep it together, woman,” she scolded herself, as she ran a hand through her hair and smoothed down her top to compose herself. 

The box in her mind rattled closer to the edge of the shelf.

~


	10. Chapter 10 - Apologies

The days and nights grew colder over the next few days. 

By the Friday, it rained over a full twenty four hours, so the run scheduled for that day was postponed until the Sunday. 

After the fight, all had been calm, Daryl avoided the areas he knew Rick would be, taking his meals to his cell and he suspected the others arranged it so that the two men’s paths failed to cross. He did hear from Glenn that Rick had come out of their fight the worse. That pleased him. 

Carol had been going out into the woods regularly since that Tuesday night. She said she liked to go out there to the quiet to reflect, but Daryl had concerns. She didn't seem to go far, she said she was placing snares around as he had taught her. He didn't follow her, but he checked on her with his binoculars regularly. 

To him, it felt like there were less moments of awkwardness between them since their bonding over his war wounds. 

His feelings no longer choked him. He couldn't articulate them yet, but he embraced them after that night in the infirmary. Soon he would breathe them into life and she would perhaps accept them. 

The odd moments of doubt still niggled at him. He had discussed this with Glenn and decided to allow his relationship with Carol to progress at a natural pace, without over internalising every detail. They were best friends, two halves of a whole and Glenn said it was common knowledge that the best and deepest love affairs were borne from friendship first. 

Now, he sat at a table in the main atrium of the prison, taking apart a part for his bike with a toolkit he'd stumbled across weeks ago. He heard someone enter the room and he looked up. 

Rick. 

The other man froze for a second before continuing over to his friend’s table. Daryl sighed. The others must have decided it was time for them to play nice to allow the Rick out of their sight. 

Rick eased himself down opposite Daryl and they sat in silence, Daryl still fiddling with the object before him, both men sporting the evidence of their fight on their faces. 

Daryl threw down his screwdriver and got straight to the point, narrowing his eyes after noticing Rick’s red rimmed eyes, “You drunk?” He crossed his arms over his chest. 

“No,” came the sullen reply. 

Rick’s face was a hue of differing coloured bruises, interspersed with dark red cuts as well as a beauty of a black eye. 

Merle would have been proud of Daryl's handiwork.

Rick seemed to wince slightly in pain, whether from his physical injuries or shame, Daryl couldn't say, “Look, I said some awful things to you,” Rick began, contrite, “About you. It's unforgivable but, for what it's worth, I'm really sorry.”

Daryl frowned, not sure he should give his supposed friend an easy ride, “Why be such a fuckin’ asshole? I was so mad, I wanted to kill ya. Still ain't too happy bout it now.”

“I don't know, man,” shrugged Rick, fatigue in his voice. “I just didn't care. I was drinkin’ cos of these feelin’s and the guilt. I was tired and just wanted to stop feeling anything. Turn it off somehow. Or to be hurt physically so it'd stop the damn hurtin’ in my head.”

Daryl said nothing but continued to observe his friend. 

Rick leaned forward and grimaced, muttering about bruised ribs. “Listen, Daryl,” he started, looking serious, “I didn't mean any of those things I said about Carol, or you. You know that, right? It was the drink talkin’ and I knew how to push your buttons enough to rile you up and make you lash out.”

His friend remained impassive, arms still folded, his handsome face set in stone.

“I know I've lost my shit and my mind and I'm not in a good place. And I don't expect your forgiveness. But I ain't even thinkin’ about anyone that way. I couldn't. I want you to know that.”

Daryl made a non committal noise and shuffled in his seat. 

Rick looked up to the windows, and was quiet, the only sound was the rain hammering on the window. “I don't know how to get it across to you,” he started, “But, before all this, did you ever go out to get drunk when you were feeling shitty or in a bad place? Maybe tried to use affection or sex as a way to make yourself feel better or feel anythin’ at all? Or to forget things completely?”

“Maybe,” Daryl confirmed, still unmoved. 

“Well, I'm sorry. You see my drunken self decided to try to do that with any of the women around here, especially Carol. She was there and she cared.” Rick leaned forward, his eyes earnest,“I knew even as it was happenin’, she'd as good as tell me to go to hell. I'm lucky she didn't punch me herself.”

“Can we not talk about that part too much?” Daryl asked, feeling uncomfortable. 

Rick raised his hands in defence, “I know. I'm just trying to get it across to you that I should never have tried to go there, and that I absolutely have no designs on your woman at all. And even if I did, she ain’t interested.”

“She ain't my woman,” Daryl countered. 

Rick snorted, “Come on man, she's as good as. The rest of us are just waitin’ for it to happen. You're both just scared.” He stopped a moment to look his friend in the eye, “Just, don't wait too long. I can tell you, it hurts more regretting the things you didn't say in the long run.” 

“You don't ever pull a stunt like that, or I'll beat your ass again.” Daryl looked deadly serious, “Especially don't try it with her ever again.”

“I know, I know.” Rick raised his hands in defeat, “Not that you could beat my ass even if you tried.”

Daryl snorted and laughed, “Whatever you say. Make sure you apologise to Carol though.”

“I will,” Rick replied, “Tried to at the time. Bet you enjoyed her tending to your wounds.”

Daryl smirked, he couldn't help himself, thinking of his hands around her waist as she cleaned his face, “Thought she'd be mad at me flyin’ off the handle, but she seemed fine. It sorta brought us closer, I suppose.”

Rick sighed, “Well, maybe something good came out me bein’ a drunken ass.” He rubbed and hand over his battered face, “Ah fuck. What am I going to do now Daryl?”

The hunter unfolded his arms and placed them on the table. “You get up every day, you get dressed, you do your daily jobs, you look after those kids of yours and you switch into autopilot for a while.” He tapped his shirt pockets as though looking for his cigarettes. “And you stay the hell away from tequila, turns you into more of an ass than you already are.”

Laughing, Rick nodded, “We ok, brother?”

“We're ok.” Daryl agreed, surprised at how easily his initial grudge had disappeared. 

He couldn't quite tag the word ‘brother’ to the end of his agreement. Not yet, not until Rick proved to be a steady captain for their ship.

~ 

Later that night, the rain was still drumming on the windows. Rick was concerned that too much of it could drown his crops. If such a thing was possible, he'd have to check with Hershel and his farming knowledge. 

He walked slowly down the hall of the block which housed the cells of the main council members. 

His room was the first cell, then came Carl's, with Carol's after that, Sasha’s, Beth’s and Hershel at the end. Upstairs was Michonne, Glenn and Maggie’s, then Daryl (who often grumbled about the noise the couple made) and lastly, Tyreese.

He found Carol in her cell, at her desk, scribbling on a large sheet of paper by candlelight. 

“Knock knock” he said from the doorway anxiously. 

He had purposely stayed out of her way since trying to drunkenly kiss her. The incident was mostly a blur in his mind now. He felt it was like one of those dreams he might have where he'd be romantic with someone he'd never thought of in that way and then felt awkward around in the cold light of day. 

“Hey,” she put down her pencil. “Sit down, you don't have to hover like a naughty school boy, you know.” She raised an eyebrow at him. 

He seated himself on her bed and sat forward with his elbows on his knees. 

Carol studied his face, “Daryl will be along in a while, he has more sewing for me to do. Darning the holes in his shirts. I don't know where he gets them all from, honestly.”

“Taking a knife to them on purpose, probably,” Rick joked and glanced at her cautiously. “Gives him the perfect excuse to come hang out in here.”

“Stop,” she scolded gently, and he thought the colour rose on her cheeks, but it was hard to tell with the subtle light in the room. 

Rick cleared his throat. “I promised him I'd apologise to you. Daryl, I mean. I saw him earlier and we cleared the air, but it's only right I say how sorry I am to you. I should never have tried anythin’ with you when you were just bein’ a friend. I should never have put you in a position where you'd feel uncomfortable or awkward around me. And I should never have risked your friendship or Daryl’s. Could even have risked ruining this thing you two have. I'm sorry. I was selfish and stupid in many ways.”

She let him talk and her face remained perfectly still. 

“Rick,” she said, “Please let’s forget it and move on. We're all adults here. I lived in the world before all this and I know people get drunk and shit happens. You were hurting and hit the bottle. You're not the first and you won't be the last. It's just a shame you ended up black and blue as a result of it.”

“But, those things I said to Daryl,” he replied, shame covering him like a sheet, “I didn't mean any of it. I just wanted to hurt someone else and you are his weak spot. I wanted him to lose it and hurt me and I knew what to say to make him angry enough to do it.”

“Well, that worked out for ya.” She ran her eyes over his face, amused.

“I know, but I could have messed everything up and created a situation. We've been in this from the start, with Daryl and Glenn. We have a family here, but you and those two are like blood to me. I couldn't ask for better people to be around and there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you guys and the kids.” Rick tried his best to make her see that he was going to bring himself back from the darkness he felt.

Carol smiled. “I feel the same and I understand. You don't have to worry, me and Daryl are just fine and we'll all get back to how things were.”

Rick’s body flooded with relief, “Daryl said he thought you'd be angry at him for lashing out.”

“Fighting with your best friend isn't good, but I know why he did it. He thought I was upset and needed defending. He was being a friend. I'd do the same for him.”

Rick nodded, “You've always had each other's back, its deeper than a friendship, you must know that. You're both so in sync with each other, it's damned scary. It's special. I don't think I even had that with Lori, ever.”

Carol looked serious, “There's nothing I wouldn't do for him. I owe him a lot. I honestly don't know what I'd do without him.” It suddenly hit her that all these months, apart from the Merle incident, he'd always been a constant presence in her life, as reliable and sure as the sun rising and setting each day.

Rick wasn't sure it was entirely his place, but he said, “Honestly, Carol, I think you've changed him. And we all know he'd do anything for you too. What you have is precious, don't waste it or let it slip away. You'll regret it if you do. That's what is torturing me after losing Lori.”

“Oh, I won't,” she answered, unaware that Daryl was loitering in the hallway at her cell door, his hole ridden shirts in hand. 

He had heard every word. He silently turned and headed out to look for Glenn until she would be alone, her words echoing around his head and a smile on his lips. 

~


	11. Chapter 11 - Quarantine

Rick’s state of mind improved over the following two weeks. 

Now that October approached, the landscape was filled with burnt oranges and reds and the wind grew stronger with a stinging edge of coolness to it. 

Early that Monday morning saw Rick at the pig pen staring at the dead mother pig whilst her offspring nudged at her in confusion. 

She had to have contracted some type of illness which had felled her with surprising speed and left Rick wondering how to proceed with the piglets. Carl approached with Hershel. 

Under the older man’s suggestion, he removed the dead pig from the pen and loaded it onto a barrow to burn. 

“Most likely, some kind of swine flu,” said Hershel as Rick cleaned his hands on a rag. 

“What about the piglets?” Rick asked, “They look ok, but then she looked fine yesterday evenin’.”  
Hershel opened his mouth to reply but shouting from the prison cut him off. “What the-“

Rick and Carl ran ahead to be greeted with a worried Ty.

“Somethin’ happened in Block D. Was heading for the shower block, heard screaming. Looks like somebody died, turned and started chewin’ up anyone in their path. Hollered for help. We put down all the dead ones, dealt with the ones that hadn't come back yet, so it's over now, but it's a damn mess in there.” Tyresse gulped and looked at the ground. “Some of the kids who survived it are pretty shook up.”

“Who's in there?” asked Rick, unsheathing his knife and readying himself to move. 

“The council members, some of the other adults,” Ty looked on the verge of tears. “I'd say most of that block is dead. Including Karen.” Karen and Tyresse had just begun to form a flirtatious relationship. 

“Hey, take a moment, Ty.” Rick grabbed the larger man’s arm. “I'll take over from here.”

Rick and Hershel advised Carl to stay with Tyresse. The boy looked concerned but nodded in agreement.

They hurried inside. Once in Block D, the scene which greeted them could have been from any horror movie. 

Body parts lay with casual abandon across the floor, blood streaked most surfaces. The only sound was of children softly crying. 

In that moment, Rick was thankful that Judith was safely slumbering in his cell, watched over by Beth on the opposite side of the prison. 

“Do we know what happened?” He shouted from the hallway. 

Glenn emerged from an upstairs cell, leaning over the metal barrier above. He looked sickened. “We think Patrick may have died at some point during the night. He's the only one not bitten or torn apart. He must have turned and attacked the others in here.”

Daryl appeared from the cell at the end of the hallway, splattered with blood and shouldering his bow. “What we doin’ with the bodies?” 

Rick took a moment and motioned him over. “Any of us dead?” He lowered his voice.

“Nah,” Daryl looked around. “These were all Woodbury. Put ‘em all in here together. Everybody else is ok. There's just about twenty of ‘em to deal with.” Rick rubbed his forehead, nodding slowly, as if assimilating the situation.

Rick then checked over Patrick’s body which was in cell number five. 

He called out to his friends. They all gathered around him in a semi-circle. “Ok. So, we need to get any survivors and kids out of here, we'll have to clear out A and house them in there for now.” 

He looked around at each of them, “Then we need to clear the bodies and burn them. Ty, will want to bury Karen, I know they were getting’ close.   
Before anybody protests about the others, we don't have the time to bury them all. We also don't know what Patrick died of. Could have been natural causes but he can't have been sixteen yet and seemed in good health, so I'd say it's unlikely. There's not a mark on him that would suggest any foul play.”

“He left book club early last night,” offered Carol, her face and neck sporting blotches of drying dark red blood. “Said he felt sick. Like he was going to throw up.” She eyed the group, sure only Daryl was aware that she had been teaching the kids how to use weapons during her weekly ‘book club’. He kept her secret for her, believing, as she did, that it was best these kids had a fighting chance of surviving out there if the worst happened, which it could, at any given time.

“Well, I got a dead pig to burn too, she seemed fine last night and now she's gone.” Rick turned to Hershel. “Is it possible both died of the same thing?”

Hershel was leaning against the metal staircase. “If it’s a flu, passed from animal to man, it is certainly a possibility. It's also the season for it. I'm theorising, of course, but I'd say if Patrick was infected, it'll be extremely contagious. It'll spread like wildfire in here, with such close quarters and it's never gonna be sterile. We could all already be infected just from being in here.”

A strained silence fell. 

Rick spoke, “Everyone, find something to use as a mask when in here. Be careful. Daryl, Glen and I will start moving the bodies. Hershel, Maggie, you get the kids out of here and help them settle in Block A. We'll have to keep an eye on them the next few days. Carol and Sasha, you'll have to start the clean up and we'll help once the bodies are outside. Anyone feeling sick or out of sorts, running hot, come see me. Until then, we have to get to the task at hand and clean this block up.” 

Feeling subdued, they all set about their jobs. 

~ 

Rick had discussed the implications of a flu outbreak with Hershel at length. Then a council meeting was called early on Tuesday. 

The atmosphere was tense. They could deal with the known dangers of Walkers, even other groups, who were hostile could possibly be negotiated with, but this was a situation seemingly beyond control. 

“Now, we do have Caleb, the doctor from Woodbury. He was in Block D at the time of the attack and he is willing to treat any sick cases that develop. He ain't feeling too grand at the moment either, so it's likely he caught it.” Hershel explained. “We've used A Block as a quarantine, most who survived Patrick's attack are now showing symptoms. Easier to keep them in there than attempt to move them across the prison and risk further contamination. Any of us who start to notice similar symptoms should go straight to A. We'll monitor how serious it gets and how many of us contract it.”

“Is it always fatal?” asked Glenn looking pale and more worried than ever. 

“It's like everything, it affects each person differently. It depends on your body’s capability to fight the infection. There's no way of knowing who is immune or why. We're blind here. We don't know for sure what we're dealing with. This could be some entirely new strain brought about by the environment we live in now.” The old man eyed each of them gravely.

“What about medication?” Maggie enquired. 

“That's the next point on the agenda. We need to organise a run for IVs, breathing apparatus, antibiotics and a whole lotta other stuff I got on a list.” Hershel said, looking around. 

“We cleared out all the chemists nearby,” advised Daryl frowning. 

“There's a veterinary college about hundred and fifty, two hundred miles East. They'll have the things we need there and they may be untouched. Vets use the same medications as Doctors, people just don't realise it. I think we could strike it lucky there.”

“Ok, so we go hit that place.” Daryl said, his eyes on Carol who had shuddered visibly, “You ok?” he asked her, concerned.

She nodded, keeping her eyes on the table. “I think I should go help Caleb in A Block.”

“What?! No.” stated Daryl grimly, shaking his head as though it was his final decision.

“Hang on,” said Hershel coming around to Carol’s side of the table. He put a hand to her forehead and got her to open her mouth wide. “Sore throat, running a temperature. You better had make your way over there.” 

“But…” said Daryl bewildered, looking from Hershel to Carol. “You look fine to me.”

She gave a sad smile, stood slowly and headed for the door, “I really don't feel it. I'll go now and see what I can do while I'm there. Caleb can't handle it all alone besides, I'm a good nurse,” her attempt at lifting the mood fell flat. “Be careful on that run and get back with the medicine. See you all real soon.” Her eyes locked with Daryl's, an unspoken message in them.

A sombre silence fell. 

Daryl felt panicked, he stood so quickly, his chair fell back onto the floor with a loud bang. He ran out of the Library after her. 

“Hey” he called. 

She stopped without turning around. “Please Daryl,” she said, worry in her voice, “Don't come any closer. You can't catch it.”

He swallowed and took a step towards her. “I'd risk catchin’ anythin’ if it meant not leavin’ ya in there.”

Carol's shoulders slumped slightly and she leaned against the cool wall for support, still not daring to turn to face him, “You need to go get what we need. They're all counting on you. I am too. I gotta go to quarantine, I'd never forgive myself if I spread it around. We can't risk anyone else. I can't risk you.” Her voice wobbled, but she straightened her shoulders and set off walking. 

Daryl sighed miserably and sagged against the wall, trying to stop himself running after her. “And I can't risk losing you,” he whispered, as she turned the corner and disappeared. 

He took a moment to swallow down his panic. Then he made his way back into the Library. 

“You ok, Daryl?” Glenn asked quietly once he returned, his eyes showing concern.

“Mmm hmm,” he replied, not trusting himself to speak, whilst picking up his fallen chair and sitting back down. The others exchanged glances. 

Glenn stood, “Um, I think I maybe need to be in the quarantine too.”

“Jesus,” Daryl muttered. Could this get any worse?

Maggie put a hand to her mouth, “Why didn't you say earlier?” she asked wide eyed and on the verge of tears.

“I wasn't sure if I was imagining it, but I feel worse now.” Glenn caressed her cheek and she brought her hand up to cover his, “I'm sorry.” He said simply, dropping his hand.

“Go,” said Maggie, wiping a tear away, “Help Carol and Caleb. Once the antibiotics get here, you'll be right as rain.”

“Sure,” he replied. “Don't anybody worry about me. It's just man flu.” He laughed trying to raise a smile from them. 

When no one saw the funny side, he turned and left after exchanging proclamations of love with Maggie. Once he'd left, she sat down, worry etching her features.

Sasha asked Hershel for his list and noticed a map drawn on the back of it. “This the place?” she asked. 

Hershel nodded, preoccupied with worry. 

“So,” Sasha began, “There'll be me, Daryl, Ty, Bob and Michonne going out there. The others will have to stay, try to keep on top of things. Do you all agree?”

The others nodded. 

Maggie spoke, “I'd rather be here so I can check in on Glenn. It shouldn't take you guys more than two days max to get back?” She looked between Daryl and Sasha. 

Daryl didn't reply. He sat chewing his thumbnail. He was in turmoil. 

Just once, he wanted someone to tell him to stay behind. He had people he cared about here. He wanted to be around for them. 

Who was he kidding? He wanted to stay here for the same reason Maggie did. He wanted to check on his love. If anything happened to her while he was out there….. It was a risk he took every time he left, but this time the risk was real, it was already happening, it was out of his control. 

She was in actual danger of not making it. It was up to him to get out there and make sure she survived. “Much less, if it's got anything to do with me.” He snatched up the list and stormed out. 

~ 

Gathering their things for the run was like a military operation with Daryl hurrying everyone along. “Come on!” he barked, “We're fuckin’ losin’ time here!” They were all going in one large people carrier. 

He banged on the roof of the vehicle in frustration as he waited for the others. 

Rick was in the yard observing his friend’s anxiousness. 

“She'll be fine,” he said quietly into Daryl’s ear. 

Daryl turned, “Not at the rate we're goin’, dammit!”

“Why don't you go over to quarantine?” Rick suggested, “You can go say goodbye to her through that viewing panel and by the time you get back out here, they'll be ready to roll.” He ducked to catch his friend’s eye. 

Daryl took a visible deep breath. “Ok.” He started off across the yard, his head down, not trusting himself not to bite anyone’s head off, should they try to speak to him. 

Once in Block A, he noticed how cool and quiet it was, aside from the occasional bout of coughing. 

Caleb sat behind the partition glass, at a desk. He had piles of thick books open in front of him, pouring over them. He looked up. “You sick?” he enquired, his brow sweaty. 

“Nah,” Daryl shook his head. “Came to see Carol. How is she?”

“Ah, well,” The doctor answered, pulling himself up wearily. “She's stubborn and won't rest. Insists on doing the rounds. We have a few kids in here. She and Glenn have been entertaining them. I'll go get her.”

Daryl waited, hardly noticing he was holding his breath.

She appeared, stripped down to a vest with thin straps on her top half and shorts underneath. She had dark circles under her eyes but the colour was high in her cheeks. He noticed cigarette burns on her inner thighs near where her shorts ended. That bastard. Her skin had a sheen to it, especially across her protruding collarbone and her eyes, while a more luminous blue than ever, looked slightly unfocused. She was in the grasp of a fever. 

“Pookie!” she smiled. 

“Hey, we're headin’ out in a sec,” he said. He desperately wanted to reach out and hold her in his arms. “Wanted to check they're treatin’ you right in there.”

“Oh,”she replied, her teeth chattered slightly as though she was cold. She crossed her arms around herself “Be careful. All of you. But you especially.”

“Sure,” he said, “You cold? You gotta rest though. Gotta keep your strength up.”

She moved toward the glass and rested her forehead against the cool surface. “There are others in here worse than me. Some of them are just kids. I gotta help.”

Daryl moved across and rested his right hand to glass. “Please, look after yourself too. For me.”

She raised her head from the window and put her left hand palm down on it against his palm on the opposite side. “Remember that jasper stone in your jacket? Take it out when you're on the run and remember that I'll be here, at home, waiting for you.”

They looked into each other's eyes through the glass for a moment. 

He leaned his forehead against the glass and whispered, “I'll always come back to you,” before turning and leaving her standing on her side of the partition.

~


	12. Chapter 12 - Fever

Glenn sat at end of Carol’s bed coughing. 

They'd both been ordered to rest but Glenn confessed he did not want to be alone just yet. 

“I can't believe we're gonna go out from a common cold,” he joked, followed by a violent coughing fit.

“If it is just a cold, antibiotics won't help.” Carol advised, holding a wicker basket under her friend's chin and rubbing his back. “I think you should go lie down in that cell across from here. We can still see each other, but resting might help.”

Glenn nodded, but winced due to the pain in his neck. 

The main doors burst open and Rick burst in carrying an unconscious Beth in his arms. “Help!” he shouted. Carol could hear Caleb coughing and moving around upstairs so she jumped up. 

“Rick!” she called, “lay her in here.” She ran to the cell next to hers as Hershel arrived, “What happened?”

Rick rubbed his beard after laying Beth down gently. “I took Judith from her, we've moved all the vulnerable people in the administration building. Anyway, she said she felt funny. I put a hand to her head and she just fell. Starting having a fit.” He looked at Hershel who was bent over Beth, his stethoscope listening to her chest. 

“Hershel. You shouldn't be in here.”

“Neither should you,” the old man replied. “And this is my baby girl. Ain't nowhere else I'm gonna be. Think the temperature she has affected her brain, which caused the fit. I may need to intubate her. Rick, you get back out there. I'll stay here. Caleb doesn't sound so good.”

“He's getting worse,” Carol ventured, her throat hurt to speak and she swayed slightly.

Hershel surveyed her. “You go lie down too. I'll hold the fort here.”

Rick got hold of her arm, steered her into her room and onto her bed. “Sleep,” he ordered, lifting her legs up on to the bed. 

She tried to speak to thank him, but she was dragged under to sleep in a few seconds. 

{}

A bird chirping was the first sound Carol heard. 

She realised she had her eyes closed and was lying in a very soft, roomy bed. She opened her eyes. It felt weird. 

Her mind scrabbled; there was something she needed to remember or do, but it eluded her like a whisper on the breeze. 

Looking around, she realised she was in her house. The one she shared with Ed and Sophia in Atlanta. In her own bed in her bedroom, everything as it should be. Or was it? 

That odd feeling settled like a rock in her stomach. She lay completely still, raking her brain for a clue as to whatever it was she was supposed to remember. 

A ghost of a thought flittered across her consciousness and she saw a flash of an image of a pick-axe. Was she meant to go buy one of those?

Suddenly, Ed entered the room. 

She sat up slightly in surprise. Why was she shocked to see him here? He was putting on a tie which matched his suit ready for work at the bank. The suit was white. 

Did Ed even own a white suit? He usually opted for charcoal or black attire for work. 

He looked as he always did otherwise, tall, overweight, face like a Neanderthal. She had the urge to laugh. 

What had she ever seen in him all those years ago? Why did she suddenly feel so confident and unafraid of him? 

He beat and abused her, had done for years, and she had always believed his assertions that she deserved it, too scared to breathe sometimes. Until today. 

She glanced at the digital clock on her beside cabinet; 7:05am, Tuesday, June 1st. Really? She felt a chill as though winter were approaching. 

Ed regarded her, “Why you shivering woman?”

Carol shrugged, overcome by a sudden all encompassing hatred of him which burned in her heart and threatened to spew forth from her mouth. 

“Now you listen here,” he said pointing at her with one meaty hand while smoothing his white tie with the other. “Those two rednecks I met in Rusty’s Saturday night are coming over to work on the gardens and other stuff. Do not speak to ‘em or bother ‘em. Keep on eye on ‘em though, the older one looked like he'd sell his granny for a gram of meth.” He glared at her menacingly. 

Ed hated spending money, but he hated having to do any work on the house so he often hired odd job men to do the dirty work. 

“Rednecks?” she asked, something about this felt like she'd stumbled into an episode of The X Files. 

“You heard me first time,” he raised his voice, eyes blazing. “Don't talk to ‘em and keep the girl away from them. Can't be too careful.” 

Carol almost laughed at the irony. She'd put money on the fact that both Sophia and herself would be safer with these two strangers than the man before her. “Sophia is here?” she blurted out, unable to help herself. 

Why had she asked that? Was she losing her mind?

Ed flew across the room. Any other husband would probably do so to kiss his wife before work but she knew what was coming. 

His fist landed on her mouth, her lip split and she tasted blood. That was a shock, he usually avoided her face. 

He grabbed her neck under her chin and brought his face so close to hers, she felt his spittle on her cheek. “Are you being deliberately fucking dumb? Don't answer that, we both know you are a fucking stupid, frigid bitch. Where the fuck else would the kid be? You made her such a mouse, she doesn't leave your fucking side.” He released her and she rubbed her neck. “Pathetic,” he spat, pulling on his white shoes. Her blood dropped from her lip onto the bedspread and she made no move to stop it. 

She fought back the urge to reach for her knuckle knife and stab him in the soft part of his temple. 

That was an odd thought, she didn't even own a knuckle knife, did she? Why stab him in the temple?

“You fuck this day up with those two hicks workin’ around here, you'll live to regret it.” He warned from the bedroom doorway, “Now get your lazy ass up out of bed. A good wife would've had breakfast on the table ready for her husband going out to work, seein’ as he has to keep her in the style she's accustomed to. But you ain't ever grateful. Don't know what I've done to deserve this shit. All I do is work my fingers to the bone and I can't even get breakfast. And any time I want a bit of appreciation in the sack, I'm treated like I'm asking something ungodly. A man can fuck his wife any time he pleases. Remember that.”

Carol repressed a sigh, biting down on her injured lip in a bid to stem the blood flow. What a boring sanctimonious bastard. 

“I sure am grateful,” she said but the words sounded insincere even to her own ears, “I'm sorry. I'll do better.” She added lamely.

Ed rolled his eyes. “Those guys will be here around nine but they'll probably be late, pair of good for nothin’s if ever I saw ‘em.” With that he stormed down stairs and she heard him grab his keys. 

The front door slammed. 

Praise the Lord he was gone. She was free but also felt as though she didn't need to worry about his return later that day. He no longer terrified her but she had no idea why. 

By nine am, Sophia had finished breakfast and was playing in her room. 

She too was wearing white; a summer dress complete with white sandals. Carol had cleared away the breakfast dishes and tidied up. She opened the kitchen window to let in some air and caught the waft of a smell which stopped her in her tracks. 

It smelled sweet, but cloyingly so, like spoiled meat and it caused her thoughts to swirl. 

The feeling that she'd slipped into an alternative universe returned, what was going on? She shook her head to clear it and headed upstairs. 

She did begrudgingly admit that their split level house was the type she'd dreamed of living when a little girl. 

Now, she knew she'd rather live in a trailer with Sophia and scrape by, than in the grandest house in the world with a sadistic bully. 

Once in their bedroom, she opened her closet to get dressed. It was filled with cargo pants, skinny jeans, utility boots, tops and vests as well as dresses she couldn't imagine Ed would let her wear. 

There was nothing white to be found, every shirt she held up was a colour she shouldn't wear.

Finally, she settled on indigo jeans (which did cling to her curves more than her husband would like) and a top which although had a collar, was a thin stretchy material and it's pale pink colour was partially see through. It also clung to her like a second skin and the buttons on it started so far down the front that it exposed more of her chest and cleavage than was safe, but it was long sleeved so it would hide the bruises on her arms. 

She had no choice; she had to wear something, those men would arrive shortly and her cheap, shapeless, baggy ‘mom’ clothes were nowhere to be seen. She'd have to risk a beating, she'd explain to Ed somehow about her wardrobe. Not that he'd believe her. He'd just be thrilled at an excuse to abuse her. 

Sitting down at her vanity, she noticed her hair had grown. There were gentle curls and she was able to fuss it around so that it spiked up in a somewhat funky style. 

She missed her long dark curly hair. Now, she was not permitted to have it styled at a salon, nor should she really be eyeing the makeup on her dresser. 

Where had that come from? The makeup had been banished long before her hair, she clearly remembered six winters ago, Ed holding her by the arm as he forced her to throw all of her makeup in the roaring fireplace. 

Now here was a palette of blush, one of eyeshadow, mascara, lip glosses and brushes. She looked at her reflection. Screw it. 

If she was going to be punished for the clothes, she may as well do her face up too and go the whole hog. 

Ten minutes later, she'd applied blush and a subtle golden sheen to her eyelids which strengthened the blue intensity of her eyes. After applying mascara, she dabbed on the lipgloss around her swollen mouth and the doorbell sounded. 

Opening the door found the two rough and ready specimens Ed had recruited over several beers at the weekend. First impressions were as Ed described them. 

The older one stood leaning against the doorframe, a cigarette nestled behind one ear, a leer on his face. The other one was younger by about ten years, but was more handsome with a less roguish air to him. 

She noticed the look the older man exchanged with his brother. 

“Hey,” the older one took charge, standing away from the door frame. “Your old man asked us to come do some jobs.” His eyes crawled up and down her body before a grin broke out on his face. He must have noticed her injured lip but made no comment. 

To most people, he'd be intimidating with his crew cut, prison tattoos and general air of aggravation.

Carol had lived through a lot of pain and frightening experiences with a man who looked and acted like a pillar of the community. 

She stuck out her hand and fixed her most dazzling smile on her face although it hurt. “Hi, I'm Carol. Ed did say you were coming by. You are?”

“Merle Dixon,” he replied, his own grin still in place, grabbing hold of her hand and giving it a strong shake. He looked down and saw the bruises around her wrist. His face dropped very slightly. 

Something pinged in her head. 

She became aware of his companion staring at the wrist and then her with intensity. Merle leaned over to the other man and whispered something, while releasing her hand. 

“Have we met before?” she asked.

“No ma’am. Don't think so. I'd sure remember meetin’ you.” His eyes roamed her body again. 

The younger man stepped forward, “I'm Daryl Dixon,” he offered his hand and looked her straight in the eye. 

He was staring at her mouth and she bit her lip to hide the cut as she had a vision of stepping forward and kissing him with abandon. 

“Brothers,” she remarked. “And, please, don't call me ma’am. Makes me feel older than I am.” She kept her voice light but her head was spinning. 

Daryl took her hand and she felt such a shock of electricity it took her breath away. He leaned forward and gently kissed her bruised forearm. 

Confusion set in, words failed her. 

“You ok?” he asked and there was a suddenly blast of ice hot white light that she was blinded and…..everything stopped. 

~ 

The light faded as did the high pitched whistling in her ear. For several seconds, she felt as though she was listening to a conversation whilst under water. She had a headache of such ferocity that it made her feel sick. 

Carol realised she was sitting on some grass. It was a summer’s day. 

There was a set of rocks arranged in a circle as though a fire had burned there. Above that was items related to cooking over a fire al fresco. Looking at her surroundings, she was at Hershel’s farm. How did she now know this? She was back at the farm, sitting outside the RV, and there were other people with her. 

Dale was atop the mobile home, binoculars in hand, rifle on his shoulder. She studied him, he looked as he usually did, but there was something…off. She sighed. 

Had she taken something that induced acid trips? A giggle emerged opposite her and it came from Lori. 

“Lori,” she whispered. Her friend looked happy, she was glowing, in fact, sitting on Shane's lap as he whispered in her ear. 

He sat on a camping chair, his semi-automatic leaning against it. 

Shane? Carol hadn't seen him in a long while. He had his hand on Lori’s thigh as they canoodled like teenagers. 

To Shane's left and Carol's right was Andrea. The blonde woman sat cross legged on the floor, a cloth spread out on the grass, cleaning her gun. Carol’s headache pounded as she tried to fit the pieces of her puzzle in place, the pressure increasing each time she got within grasping it. 

She suddenly noticed that Sophia, her baby, was there, she was sitting on a swing made from rope attached to a high tree branch with a wooden plank for a seat. 

The girl squeaked with laughter as the swung back and forth, the branch above her creaking. She held her breath. Why did this all feel so strange? An elbow nudged her left side. 

Turning, she noticed Glenn. Relief flooded her body, “Glenn,” she said, feeling close to tears. “What the hell is going on?”

Her friend grimaced, “I literally have no idea. I was at home, getting ready for my shift at the pizza joint and suddenly, I'm sitting here, with you. Have you noticed what's weird?”

“I know something isn't right,” she massaged her temples and forehead to try to ease the throbbing there. “I was back home in Atlanta, Ed was there and these two men came to…”

Glenn cut her off, “Look at what everybody is wearing, Carol. Look at what we're wearing.”

She looked around. Everyone around the unlit campfire was dressed head to foot in gleaming white. Glenn was wearing a white t-shirt, white cargo pants and even had a white baseball cap on his head. 

Looking down, she realised she wore a long, plain white sun dress. “What the..?” she started but Shane cut her off. 

“So, you two,” he motioned to Carol and Glenn. “What took you so long gettin’ here man?”

Glenn and Carol exchanged an uneasy look, “Oh, you know, better late than never,” Glenn replied, looking as confused as Carol felt. 

Carol spoke, “You know, I'm a little confused. I'm not sure if I've had a bump to the head, but I have a feeling we moved on from this farm. So, what happened, why are we back here?” 

Lori looked to Shane, “Some of us left the farm, but some of us never got here in the first place.” 

She motioned with her head to the swing Sophia sat on and Carol noticed Andrea's sister, Amy was pushing her child back and forth while the girl squealed in delight. 

T-Dog appeared at the door of the RV. “I thought I heard new voices,” he said, his white outfit shining in the sun. 

Shane smiled, “I was so happy when Lori got back here, it's so peaceful and we don't have to be scared of making the wrong choices.”

“Are you happy here, Lori? Andrea?” Carol asked. She had a very uncomfortable feeling about this place, it made no sense. 

Lori threw her head back, “Oh yes. There is no pain, no worry, we all live freely in peace.” 

“I wasn't sure at first,” Andrea admitted, looking up from her task, “But I saw Amy was here and the others. You get used to it. You guys must be tired, so very tired. Wouldn't you like to just kick back and relax?”

Glenn gave a quick smile, “I think I just need a quick word with Carol about something. One sec,” he motioned with his head and they both got up and separated themselves from the group. 

“Don't be too long, man!” Shane shouted. Glenn and Carol walked away from the group through the long grass.

Glenn kept his eyes fixed on the others. “I think maybe we should stay.”

“What?!” Carol hissed, she stepped back and suddenly her mind cleared, a realisation hit her and the pressure from her brain eased. “Glenn, you do know that all of these people are dead?! We're having some sort of light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel moment. It's weird as shit.”

Dale shouted from the roof of the RV. “Got another one at three o'clock, over by the house.”  
Carol and Glenn strained to look over in that direction, expecting to see a Walker. Instead, it was Beth. 

She was running through the grass, over to the group, smiling and waving. 

“Oh no, not Beth too!” Carol muttered, seeing the girl was also dressed in white. 

The group all stood and embraced the youngest Greene daughter while Glenn and Carol hung back. 

“If you want to stay, I can't stop you Glenn, but this place is some kind of afterlife. Can you really leave Maggie behind?”

Glenn sighed, “I am just so tired,” he kicked the ground with his perfect white sneakers. “Imagine not having to worry about anybody anymore, or about fences giving way, runs going bad, fights, herds, other groups or whether a common cold is going to wipe out everyone you know. Maybe it'd be nice to chill here and float around, no threats. Beth looks happy.” 

Beth was hugging Lori and T-Dog was handing her a six string guitar much to her delight. A middle aged woman appeared from the rear of the RV, and from Beth's reaction, Carol guessed it was the girl's mother.

“I am tired too,” Carol admitted sadly. “And as much as I miss and love my Sophia, I promised myself I'd always fight for as long as I could. Staying here feels like giving up, Glenn. Maggie will be inconsolable and who knows how long it'll be before she gets here.”

To the West of the group, across another field where there was a dirt track, came a noise. A motorcycle. Carol and Glenn looked at each other and the others became still as they noticed it too. 

“What is that?” asked Carol. 

“Just ignore it,” soothed Andrea. “Look, come sit with us. Beth is going to sing.” The group all resumed their original positions, with Beth seated on the steps of the RV. 

“Glenn!” a shout came from the same direction as the motorcycle. 

Carol pulled at Glenn's arm, “That's Maggie. You can't leave her!” Glenn looked towards the West and then back to the group. 

“Carol! Glenn!” came another raised voice. Rick. 

Shane looked between them both, “You go back there, it's a world of pain for you! You know it's suffering and fighting and fatigue and hunger! You want that? Then go! But don't say we didn't try to get you to stay. You guys are crazy if you walk away.” 

Glenn spoke, “Beth?” 

The girl shook her head, “I ain't strong enough for that life. Not really. I tried, I was scared comin’ here but it feels right. It feels good.” She smiled. 

“Beth, what about your Daddy?” Carol tried to plead with young woman with her eyes. 

Beth smiled wider, “He'll be fine. He has all of you there. You're all family.”

A tear ran down Carol's face. 

“Carol!” came the urgent cry of the man on the motorcycle. “Carol!”

Andrea gave a sarcastic laugh, “There he is. Right on cue to claim his woman,” she looked pointedly at Carol and turned away. 

The cries from the West continued to grow louder and Sophia jumped down from the swing, running up to Carol, her doll clutched in one hand. 

She threw herself at her mother. “I'm happy here, Mama,” she said in her sweet, gentle voice, “Nothing can hurt me here. It's safe, there are no monsters or bad things. It's not time for you to be here yet. I can tell. The others just want all of us to be together.”

Carol crouched down and cried, tears flowing, “My beautiful girl. I'm so sorry I can't stay. Part of me wants to. A big part. But I promised myself, I'd fight it all until the end. That I'd make you proud.”

Sophia wrapped her delicate arms around her mother’s neck. “I already am, Mama,” she whispered and placed a kiss on her cheek. “I want you to happy. Really happy. I'll be watching.”

“I love you, my sweet baby, never forget, that I am always proud of you,” Carol whispered, kissing her daughter’s head. She stood and wiped at her face. 

The pain in her head had faded to almost nothing.

A darkness appeared on the horizon from the direction of the bike and the shouting. 

“How do we get back?” Glenn asked. 

Dale shouted down to them, “Walk back towards the dark, of course.” He smiled a sad smile and tipped his sun hat at them. 

Carol grabbed Glenn’s hand and they turned to face the West. 

“You're sure you want to come back?” she asked him. 

“Sure,” he confirmed. 

As they headed towards the noise and darkness, they looked back, only to find the campsite scene fading out.   
The closer they walked back to where they wanted to be, the colder it got. A wind swirled around them along with their loved ones in the prison calling to them. 

A flash of lightning and a rush of coldness swept over them and then…nothing again.

 

~


	13. Chapter 13 - Desperation

Driving to the veterinary college took almost half a day. They had to make several stops en route to siphon gas and investigate the contents of abandoned cars en route. Daryl had been against any unnecessary stops and his impatience spilled off him in waves.   
“Just grab the gas and go!” he had snarled as he jumped from their people carrier at the third stop.   
Tyresse hurried toward a group of four abandoned vehicles, his equipment in hand, “We need gas or we'll never make it there and back.”   
“I ain't stupid,” Daryl snapped, “It's just taking a damned age to get anywhere!” He didn't add that the rest of the group were trampling on his frayed nerves just by simply breathing.   
Michonne appeared from behind the open boot one car, “I found a ton of batteries, a few books, baby things and a decent sized first aid kit. No pills of any kind, except Aspirin. But that could come in handy, right?”  
Daryl kicked at the tyre of the saloon nearest him in anger, “Yep, come in handy if that flu wipes out most of our people back home. Be less of us there needin’ supplies.”  
Michonne slammed the down the lid of the boot she had been investigating, “Look, having a pissy attitude the whole time isn't going to help. We'll get back as soon as we can, but we can't get all the way there and back without any stops.”  
“Whatever,” replied Daryl, pulling a cigarette from his pack. “When y’all done, I'll be sittin’, waitin’ ready to go.” With that he climbed into the driving seat and lit up. The pattern repeated each time they found vehicles to check.   
They finally pulled up at the college, Sasha in charge of the list. After gathering their equipment, they formed a huddle on the path which lead to the main entrance.   
Tyresse looked at the list, “I think we should head straight for any labs or store cupboards. They probably kept all the medicines together.”  
“Why are we standin’ around talkin’ about it instead of just goin’ in?” Daryl said with exasperation. “We know the drill, it ain't rocket science. Go room to room, floor to floor until we clear the place. Deal with the dead ones on the way.” He adjusted his bow and started to walk towards the door.   
“Hey,” answered Tyresse. “What Michonne said earlier, about you havin’ a pissy attitude, was right. It's not helping and going off half boiled will end up gettin’ us killed.”  
Daryl turned, anger burning in his eyes, “Oh yeah?” he shouted, pointing at the much larger man, “You an expert now, huh?”   
Sasha, Michonne and Bob stepped between the two men.   
“No,” came the calm reply. “But that flu claimed the woman I happened to be falling in love with. It's too late for her now, but that doesn't mean that it's gonna be too late for the others. We just need to not lose our heads. You snappin’ and shoutin’ every second isn't gonna make this any easier, no matter how much you want. Now, you want to work together to find what we need, or go off in a rage like a kid?”  
Daryl narrowed his eyes and looked to be about to explode. Then his face relaxed slightly and he barked, “C’mon!” They took that to mean that they'd be working as a team.   
They approached the building in a formation; Tyresse at the rear with his hammer, then Sasha, Bob and Michonne in a triangle with Daryl in front. Once at the door, they noticed a heavy chain with a padlock. The padlock had been obliterated by a tool of some kind. They shared disappointed looks. This could be an indication that the place had already been ransacked. Daryl rattled the chains as loudly as possible and waited. Nothing. He turned to the rest and indicated they should have their weapons ready. They moved into the building.   
It had two floors and the ground one appeared to be a mixture of classrooms and laboratories. They checked each room in turn. The place was deserted. After checking three classrooms and two laboratories, they were beginning to lose hope; no medical supplies anywhere, not even a gauze. The third lab yielded results. Medicine cupboards. As his four comrades filled their bags to the brim, Bob investigated the room further. Once they had everything they could lay their hands on, they decided to leave.   
Their exit was now blocked by a substantial group of Walkers. They immediately turned back and headed for the stairwell. Once upstairs, they noticed a dormitory full to the brim with the dead, and they noticed the group, immediately congregating at the glass doors. Luckily the doors had been nailed shut from the outside, but that was no huge comfort. The collective weight of the group of the dead could easily overcome that barrier. They ran along the corridor passing rooms, all of which had been nailed shut in an attempt to keep the Walkers in. At the emergency exit door they waited and pressed an ear each to the wooden door.   
Sasha whispered, “Sounds like there's a number of them on the other side of this.”  
“Oh shit,” muttered Tyresse, readying his hammer. The Walkers from the dormitory had managed to work the makeshift barrier on the door loose and were shuffling towards the live targets. Michonne drew her sword. There were three large windows adjacent to the emergency exit, each at hip height and extending up towards the ceiling. Daryl peered out of one and saw a wide ledge running under the windows and along the side of the building.  
“We smash these,” he explained as Michonne set to work slicing the nearest Walkers down. “Go out onto the ledge, along to the front of the building, then we'll have to jump down.” The others nodded. “Ty!” he shouted and the big man used his hammer to smash the nearest window to them. They had no time to consider what affect any noise would have on any nearby Walkers, they just had to take their chances. Once they were all on the ledge, they noticed a group of the dead gathered along the side of the college. “Shit!” Daryl cursed.   
They hurried along the ledge in single file, but Bob shouted out from the back as he lost his footing. His backpack fell from his grasp slightly. He still had hold of one strap as he tried desperately to wrench it from the grasp of the waiting bodies below.   
The rest of the group turned to help him. Tyresse grabbed Bob under the arms to pull him further into the side of the building and away from the edge. “Hey!” shouted Daryl, “Let go if you have to, it ain't worth being pulled over for! We got more than enough anyway!”   
Bob gave one last monumental pull and the bag landed on the ledge with a suspicious clank. Daryl would recognise that sound anywhere. “What's in there?” he asked, knowing the answer.   
The only sound was the gnashing and groaning of the animated corpses.   
Daryl grabbed the backpack and tore it open. Bottles of liquor. Bob had found a long dead professor’s secret stash.   
“I-I just need it to sleep. The noise or the silence, I just can't switch it off with either.” Bob tried to explain.   
Daryl's anger was ferocious, “You take a so much as a drop of that before we get this medicine into our people; into my family and I'll kill you.” He had gradually moved closer to ashamed man, until he could nudge him with his forehead and emphasise the threat.   
“C’mon,” Tyresse picked up the bag and handed it to Bob. “Let's get outta here before those in the hallway make it out.”   
Sasha and Michonne stared at Bob in disappointment. They shouldered their own packs and made their way along to the jump off point.   
Once they'd loaded up their vehicle, a silence settled over them. The stops on the way back were calm and quiet, only necessary exchanges passed between them.   
Daryl chose to remain in the car while the others siphoned gas for the return trip. He played with his jasper stone, ran it around his hands and studied its surface like an archaeologist with a new fossil. He thought of home, and prayed they weren't too late for the person who had made it so for him. If he allowed his mind to wander to the possibility that Carol was no longer alive, then his stomach tied in knots and it was almost a physical pain in his chest. He wouldn’t, he couldn't deal with even approaching the thought of how he would proceed without her presence in his life. Even if she didn't feel about him the way he did about her, he could never be without her completely. She was like an anchor in the rocky sea that was his life, which must have been due to the workings of fate; they'd have never gravitated towards each other before the fall of the world. He had to see her eyes and smile lit up with amusement, and good health.   
As he ran his blood covered hands over the stone, he wondered what it would feel like to caress her smooth skin, to nuzzle at her neck enough to bring delicious shivers to her body. To know without any sliver of doubt that she was his, that she needed him the way he needed her; one of his fears was that the longer he delayed, the more chance there was that she would discover that he was just too damaged to love, and not worth the tremendous effort that thankless task required.   
Yet, she had already breached his natural defences numerous times. He had allowed her much closer to his true self than anyone else, even his own brother. He felt vulnerable and exposed which led to these incidents of unleashing his frustrations on those around him. Once back home, he vowed, he would break the cycle and step towards being a part of a whole.


	14. Chapter 14 - The Return

It was dark and cold. The type of cold that seeps into the skin and settles onto the bones. Carol had her eyes closed but she felt as though she was in one of those sensory deprivation tanks. She had no idea of time or location or whether she was alive or dead. Maybe this was a holding area for departed souls. She could not feel anything. Not in a bad way; her mind was forming thoughts and she felt like herself, but she had no idea where her body was.   
Sounds echoed. It seemed as though she was eavesdropping upon a conversation from behind a door or wall. She strained to make out any words but she caught the noise of coughing and of objects being thrown around or dropped. She tried to speak but nothing happened. Then, she attempted to open her eyes. Nothing.   
A cold object was pressed onto her already cold chest. It moved around after a few seconds. The impression she got was that the it was a stethoscope and therefore she must still be alive but unconscious in the quarantine section. She wanted to shout out that she was fine, but she'd lost the ability to do anything other than lay suspended in the icy waters of time, her mind scrabbling like a hamster on a wheel. She hated being helpless.   
There was the sound of urgent commotion. What was happening? Then she felt the frozen fingers of unconsciousness take hold. She was going to be pulled under by it again. The fight in her subsided and she felt the waves of oblivion overcome her mind. All was black and silent and still.   
~   
The commotion had been the return of the runners. Daryl had hardly allowed their car to stop before he was opening the door, gathering his haul and heading for A Block.   
“Rick!” he shouted as he reached the main door. “Hershel! Anybody?!”  
Rick appeared at the partition glass looking drawn. He motioned to the inner door which they had decided to lock when they took over the area for quarantine. Daryl tried the handle and opened that door.   
“Ain't botherin’ lockin’ it up no more?” Daryl asked.   
“Daryl,” Rick started, his voice shaky, closing the door behind him, “There's, there's not much point.” He regarded the floor and rubbed his forehead with his left thumb, his other hand resting on the gun holster around his waste. “It's bad. So bad. This virus moves so fast, and…”  
“Is Carol ok?” demanded Daryl, cutting his friend off and studying him intensely.   
Rick nodded wearily “Well, she's unconscious. She's breathing but it's touch and go. I'm sorry, man. We need to get the medicines in her and Glenn, now.”  
“Let’s go do it then!” Daryl thrust the bag at his friend and went to make his way into the quarantined area.   
Rick grabbed hold of his friend's arm “Hey. You can stay out here. Don't need to expose yourself to it. You don't have to go in there.”  
Daryl chewed at his lip.”I ain't leavin’ her in there alone a minute longer. Don't care what I catch.” He shrugged, “Dixon’s don't get sick.”  
Rick sighed, “Really, Daryl. We can't risk you.”  
Struggling to dampen his temper, Daryl replied, “We can't risk you, either.” He was growing tired of Rick expecting everyone to follow his rules, but breaking them himself.  
“I had to go in there, I had no choice, people were falling down with it left and right, I had to get them in there.”  
Daryl spread his hands and pulled his arm from Rick’s grasp, “I don't got a choice, neither.” With that, he stepped into the quarantine bay, waiting for his friend to follow him.   
Rick shook his head and followed.   
“Where is she?” asked Daryl, his eyes roaming the area. “What about Glenn?”  
Rick pointed to a cell on the right, “Carol is in 3, Glenn's in 4. Put them across from each other.” He took a breath, “I had to force Maggie to stay out of here, she's observing the more vulnerable over in the admin building and checkin’ that fence.”  
Daryl nodded, saying nothing.  
“I've been going out, checking how things are regularly,” Rick explained. “Need to get this lot up to the docs.” He gestured to the bag, then said quietly, “We've lost a few people.”  
“Who?” asked Daryl, frowning. He wanted to go check on Glenn before sitting with Carol a while.   
Rick closed his eyes for a second, “Beth. Some older Woodbury folk.”  
“Beth?” Daryl was shocked.  
“She fell ill just after you guys left. I had to bring her in here after she passed out. Just as I got her in here to be looked at, Glenn and Carol took turns for the worse and they've been out of it since.” Rick cleared his throat, “Beth couldn't fight it. Hershel tried his damned hardest and Caleb tried too, but she just wasn't able to hang on. Hershel is devastated.”  
“What about Maggie?” asked Daryl after a moment of sombre silence, the gravity of the situation settling around him.  
Rick looked down guiltily, “We haven't told her yet. Figured she was worried enough about Glenn who hasn't improved for over 24 hours now. If she knew about Beth, she'd be in here. And we decided we'd try to manage this thing so that no more council members were at risk.” He tilted his head to Daryl, “That plan’s gone to shit now.”  
“World’s gone to shit, Rick. I'm gonna go see Glenn and Carol now. I'll pay my respects to Hershel too. But ya can't stop me from being here, you know that.”  
Rick nodded, knowing it was useless to push the matter, “Hershel is upstairs. Caleb isn't so good himself. We'll sort this lot out and come down to work on Glenn and Carol.”  
Daryl nodded and set off toward cell four. Glenn was laid on the bed, sleeping, or so it appeared. An oxygen mask lay on a table beside him and his clothes had been stripped down to his underwear. “Stay strong, short round.” Daryl muttered before turning to leave.   
At three, he took a deep breath before entering.   
She lay on her back, her grey hair spiked around her head. She looked peaceful, although her face was ashen, her lips, usually pulled up in that curved smile of hers, the one that made his stomach contort, were bloodless. Her breathing sounded laboured and her chest rattled. Maybe if she were in a hospital, she'd have been wired up to beeping machines. Laying on top of the covers, she had the same vest and shorts on as the last time he had seen her. Daryl inhaled another deep breath. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but he had half hoped that his presence alone might bring her round. Slight panic rising, he swiped his hair out of his eyes and exhaled, making his way to the bed. There was a chair next to the bed, so he sat down and took her hand.   
“Hey,” he whispered, “Its me, it's Pookie. I'm home.” He took another deep breath and blew it out slowly. He wasn't sure what he should do. Should he talk to her? Could she hear him? He realised he was totally helpless. Outside in the prison and out on runs, others looked to him for strength and to fight with them, for them. Right now, he couldn't fight for the one person he treasured most, she who he was closest to. What use was he to her then? He could protect her from the dead, the living, from the horrors of this life now but all of that was useless at that moment.   
He laced his fingers with hers. Her hand was lifeless, floppy, and ice cold. He put his other hand to her forehead and almost jerked it back from the heat. What now? He pulled her hand up to his own forehead, their fingers still intertwined, his eyes closed. “Come on, woman. Fight. Don't give up.” He felt the sting of tears as he whispered those words. “We need you. Hell, I need you. Carol,” he hardly ever addressed her by her name; he felt odd saying it to her. He always called her, ‘Hey,’ or ‘woman’ but he had never said her own name to her.   
“Don't leave us. Don't leave me. I can't do this without ya here,” Daryl looked at her. She remained inanimate on the bed, the only sound that rattle in her chest and slow rasping breaths. He would have prayed if he thought they wouldn't go unanswered, but after Sophia, they all realised God could a deaf ear at times of great despair, not that he was a believer. Daryl leaned over in his chair, kissed her burning cheek. He could hear movement and voices from outside. “Please. I-I think I’m fallin’ for ya,” he whispered, close to her burning ear, though the words were barely loud enough to be considered such. He remained in that position for a few minutes, watching her rattling chest rise and fall.  
He stood as Rick appeared at the doorway. He regarded Daryl's worried face and felt as though he was intruding a private moment. “Hershel is gonna get the IV set up with Glenn and then it's Carol's turn.”  
Daryl nodded placing Carol's hand back at her side, “I'll help, do whatever. Go out there if you need me to or I'll stay in here if you wanna get some air.”  
Rick rubbed at his ever growing beard, “Can you go help the others bring in the medical things?”   
“Sure,” Daryl made to leave the cell, not daring to look back at the bed.   
“Daryl,” Rick said, and his friend halted. “Carol’ll pull through this. She's a fighter. Most people would have given up after Sophia. But she….”  
“I know,” Daryl cut him off, unable to listen to cliches. “I'll go get the rest of the antibiotics in here.” As he left the cell, he saw Hershel at the table which ran alongside the metal staircase. The old man looked devastated. Hershel pulled him into a brief hug, trying to convey his condolences. “I'm sorry,” Daryl muttered quietly.  
Hershel looked up at the ceiling, “You'd think I'd be used to loss by now,” he said, his voice filled with grief. The old man took a moment to compose himself. “You know what it's like to have to put down your own blood. The only comfort I have is that at least now she's somewhere she can't be hurt or in pain.”  
Daryl kicked the floor, chewing on the side of his mouth as he always did when he was emotional. It had been difficult enough for him to see Merle as one of those things and to end him, he could barely comprehend the loss of a child.   
“Now,” the old man raised himself up straighter, “I got work to do. I will not lose anybody else. Gotta get these two feeling better. You go bring the rest of the bags in and we'll get going. Don't look so worried, they should both be fine now you're back with the medicine.”  
Daryl moved toward the main door, more scared than he'd been in years.


	15. Chapter 15 - Recovery

Glenn regained consciousness first. He had required the antibiotics via the IV but after hours of worry, his temperature decreased and his eyelids fluttered. A whole day later, he sat at Carol's bedside, checking her over and holding up the pouch containing the life saving drugs. She had lain as immobile as a mannequin and he was being to think that maybe she had decided she wanted to drift away peacefully. He wanted her to wake so that he could ask if she'd had the same out of body, near death experience he'd had.  
The door to the quarantine section opened. Since he'd woken up, there had been eight fatalities, including Dr Caleb. The young doctor had worked tirelessly trying to save others up until he could no longer physically stand it. Glenn had helped Hershel to put the dead down before they turned. His father in law was exhausted and at the moment, lay sleeping in Glenn's cell. The door opening, he assumed, would be Rick and Tyresse who had the arduous task of removing the corpses from the building.   
“How is she?” came the gruff voice from behind him.   
Glenn smiled slightly to himself. Daryl. His friend had been visiting every couple of hours, forgoing sleep even.   
“Same,” Glenn replied. “Though, I think her temp may have dropped a little.”  
Daryl strode across the floor and crouched down to place the back of his hand on her forehead. “She ain't on fire no more.” He said, straightening up, “That's somethin’”  
Glenn looked up at Daryl, “How's Maggie?” He had spoken to her through the glass window of A wing earlier that day.   
“She's gettin’ on with things,” Daryl kept his eyes on Carol. “Workin’ to keep things together out there. That fence needs more supports puttin’ up everyday. It ain't gonna hold much longer.”  
“I'll come out there and help.” Glenn stood shakily. “I feel better.”  
Daryl gave his friend a look, “You ain't goin’ nowhere. We just need to grab Rick when he has a minute and see if he's got any ideas about the fence.” He put his hand on Glenn’s shoulder and lowered him back down into the chair. “Sit.”  
As Glenn did as he was told, the fingers on Carol's left hand twitched. “You see that?” he asked Daryl.   
“Yeah,” Daryl replied, leaning in to look.   
Her eyelids with those long, delicate lashes flickered. Daryl almost squeezed Glenn but refrained. “Go get Hershel,” he ordered instead. He shouldn't really make his friend get up, but there was no way he was leaving and not being the first person she saw. Glenn stood more steadily this time and moved past Daryl, who took his seat. He put her left hand in his, once again noticing her slender fingers and smooth, creamy skin. Being mindful of the IV in the crook of her arm, he raised her hand, still in his and held it under his chin, willing her silently to fully wake.   
~ 

She'd swam through the icy darkness for what felt like hours. The blackness had swaddled her like a cocoon, thick and restrictive. Even though she knew her physical body was unconscious, her mind felt tired and heavy. She just wanted to let go and be still. She couldn't, however. It was like she was about to step off a cliff, she braced herself to let go, but remained rooted to the spot.   
Suddenly, she'd become aware of noises in the dark, and floated in their direction. The oppressive bleakness lifted slightly, or had she imagined that? Yes, it was becoming lighter, both in colour and pressure. She remembered a hearing a whisper in the void; a declaration of love and now she heard the owner of that voice. Felt him, holding her hand. She kept heading for the noise and light, pushing onward despite the sheer exhaustion. She had come this far, past the end of the world, she refused to give up now.   
Now, she became aware of being back inside her own physical body. Fatigue ensured that trying to open her eyes was a Herculean effort. She did it, summoning up her inner reserves of strength. Relief flooded her brain, she had made it through. Turning her head, she saw him, holding her hand, his eyes lit up, the exact opposite of the infinite blackness which had enveloped her. He helped her to take a drink, it was heaven to feel the liquid hit her throat. She lay back on the thin pillow as a shiver broke out and goosebumps appeared.   
Daryl leaped up from the seat and pulled the thin, rough sheet up over her from where it had been bunched up at the end of the bed. As he placed it around her shoulders, she gingerly raised her left arm and caressed his cheek with her hand to check he wasn't another hallucination. “You're here,” she whispered, her eyelids heavy.  
Overcome with feelings of love and relief, he reached up and took her hand in his before gently holding it to his chest. “Where the hell else would I be?” he whispered gruffly in an attempt at playfulness. “You ok?” The question came automatically, he had to know.  
She smiled weakly, “Gotta be,” she replied, a croak to her voice, her eyes looking into his. “You don't get rid of me that easily.”   
“Stop,” he murmured, as he always did to her teasing, though now he welcomed her sounding like her usual self.   
Daryl was unsure how to act, he remembered the words he'd mouthed in her ear. What if she had heard and remembered them? What if she hadn't? Which was worse? Either, he decided. He was constantly in limbo regardless. Right now, he had to concentrate on being thankful he wasn't having to plunge his knife into her temple. The thought of that alone tightened his chest.   
The sound of someone clearing their throat broke the moment and he stood away from the her, turning to see Glenn and Hershel in the doorway. The older man raised an eyebrow and moved across to the bed, while Glenn gave a knowing smile which broke out into a relieved grin. Daryl was still feeling high on relief so didn’t get flustered over their interruption. He would worry about that later. Moving to the door of the cell, he leaned against it while Hershel sat on the side of the bed and checked the patient over, speaking in gentle tones and listening to her chest. Carol enquired about Beth and her eyes filled with tears as Hershel informed her of the girl’s passing. She held the old man's hand as he gathered himself together and wiped his tears away. Daryl crossed his arms across his chest and chewed at his lower lip. He should really go out and help around the place, the day was losing light but there was always work to be done.   
Mealtimes had suffered due to Carol being out of action, the others on the rota lacked the flair for cooking she possessed. Michonne could burn water and Tyresse enjoyed over spicing most meals. Gaps in personnel had impacted laundry and the place in general was in disarray. Their main priority had been strengthening the weakened fence areas. Every day more Walkers piled up around the crowd already gathered. Maggie, Bob and Sasha regularly took out as many of them as they physically could, Rick and Daryl had sacrificed the orphaned baby piglets to entice some of the dead away, but they still kept coming, drawn by the noise. He could hear the moans now, carried on the frigid air.   
Hershel patted Carol's arm and rose from the bed, his stethoscope in his hand. He approached Daryl and indicated the younger man should follow him outside the cell.   
Once outside, Hershel turned and said, “She should be fine.”  
Daryl nodded, relief flooding through him again.   
“She does need to rest though, at least for a couple of days.” The old man’s eyes twinkled, “Now if I know Carol, she's not going to be a good patient. I need you to convince her to stay off her feet. She can go back to her own cell now the worst is over, but no chores, no fussing and no strenuous activity.”  
Daryl chewed his lip, “Makes you think she'll do what I say?”  
Hershel broke out into a smile, “Son, I just know.” He placed a hand on Daryl’s shoulder, “You two. Can't have one without the other. Don't waste the opportunity you have. Don't think I haven't noticed how it is. You get to my age, you see a lot more clearly. She's always had your back, now you put your foot down and make her listen to you. It's what will be best for her. If it were you laid up, you think she'd let you lift a finger?”  
Daryl snorted. “Ok, ok. I'll lay down the law. Tell her it's doctor’s orders.”  
Hershel smiled again. “Good. Now I gotta go tell Maggie about Bethy.” He sighed. “Rick and Ty dug the graves earlier I hear.”  
Nodding, Daryl replied, “We'll all want to come pay our respects.”   
Hershel patted his shoulder and walked slowly to the main door, leaning heavily on his crutches.   
Daryl entered Carol's cell and Glenn cut off the conversation they were having. The younger man looked guiltily between Daryl and Carol before making his excuses and leaving the room. 

~


	16. Chapter 16 - Stop

Hershel and Daryl left the cell and by the look on Glenn’s face, he was eager to talk about something. After perching on the edge of her bed, and once they had discussed how each were feeling physically, Glenn broached the subject.   
“Do you remember?” he asked, his brown eyes searching hers.   
“The farm?” replied Carol, “That dream or hallucination or whatever the hell it was? Yeah, I remember.”  
Glenn leaned forwards, “Do you get what it meant?”  
“I think it was some experience we both had where we were in the same place subconsciously.”  
The younger man’s eyes brightened with vigour, “C’mon Carol. Those voices at the end were fro the people we care about and who care about us. I came back for Maggie. You know the reason you're here.”  
Carol closed her eyes for a moment, “Maybe,” she answered, sitting up and crossing her legs in front of her, “When I was out of it and he was here, I thought….no. It's nothing. Forget I said anything.” She glanced down at the thin bedspread and began to pick at it.   
“Hey,”Glenn tugged at her wrist, “Tell me, talk to me. It's not nothing.”  
She sighed, “I thought he said something. About how he felt.”  
Glenn studied her for a second before a grin broke out on his face. Keeping his voice low and glancing to the door, he said, “Well then, that's it. You absolutely cannot ignore it. You have to ask him about it. We all know you're crazy about each other.”  
“Pfft,” she snorted. “And watch him freak out?! You know he's never going to open up, Glenn.”  
“Carol,” Glenn chided. “You could be dead right now. We could all be dead a hundred times over. You should've been gone at least twice, but you're here. Because of him, remember. He saved you when the farm fell and when you were tracks in the tombs. Somehow we got the chance to come back this time, don't waste it. Our luck will run out eventually and could all end in the blink of an eye. There's a reason we got to wake up, there has to be. Seize the chance to live, you made that decision when you didn't want to stay at the farm. Please.” The rest of his words died in his mouth as Daryl coming back into the room. He gave her a meaningful look before heading out to find his wife.  
~   
“What was that about?” enquired Daryl, sitting down heavily on the chair by her bed. He leaned forward and placed his folded arms on the edge of the mattress, studying her. He noticed that her freckles had become more apparent on her still pallid face and there were dark circles under her eyes.  
Carol sighed, “Nothing.” She flapped her hand dismissively and then smoothed at her top. “Glenn was just getting philosophical about second chances after our brush with death.”  
Daryl looked puzzled and wondered what their friend had been saying to Carol.  
“He was going on about having a second chance and seizing the chance to live.” She rolled her eyes, “It was all very dramatic, you know, talking about how everything could be snatched away at any time, so we all shouldn't waste a second. Sounded like a superstitious old woman.” She failed to mention that Glenn was trying to talk her into making a move on the man before her. A romantic move. After their shared out of body experience, Glenn was convinced it was a sign that she and Daryl were meant to be.  
The hunter stared at her unable to formulate a reply, damn Glenn, trying to meddle. “Hmmmm,” was all he said. He'd noticed her voice was raw, and husky found he liked it. They sat in amicable silence, as they often had whilst spending evenings together.   
“How is everyone?” Carol asked shifting position in bed so that she was on her side, an arm under her head, looking up at him. The vest she had on had ruffled up around her stomach area and caught Daryl's eye. He could see faint scars on the pale skin. He appreciated the glimpse of her body but it felt wrong when the marks on her showed how much pain she'd been subjected to. He swallowed and averted his eyes, trying not to feel a swell of anger at that prick of a husband of hers. At least the asshole was dead, if he hadn't fell foul of a walker, then maybe the real Carol would never had emerged. She pulled her top down and he studied the floor as he filled her in on the below par meals they had endured and the drop in standards generally.   
“I best get back to the grind tomorrow then,” she gave a low chuckle, “To think, I always felt like a burden.”  
“Ya anythin’ but a burden,” he answered truthfully. “Don't ever think that!”  
“I clearly have my uses,” she joked, eyes twinkling.   
“Yeah,” he replied, “Maybe you do have one or two.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “No one cooks up squirrel stew like you do….”  
“Oh, I do love cooking stuff up,” she said, raising an eyebrow and unleashing that smile, the one that he pictured in his head whenever he thought about her, the one that brought about stirrings he had been trying to dampen, even though she only had to glance in his direction with those eyes to turn him on. He was glad to be sitting down otherwise his excitement would be hard to hide and now was not the right time, she'd only just come round. He swallowed hard and rubbed his hands together to shift his attention from her beautiful face.   
“So,” he said, “About you getting’back to the grind…”  
Carol looked at him, her smile fading.   
“Hershel said you can go back to your own cell, but you gotta rest for a day or two.” His eyes flicked up to her face, knowing what was coming next.   
“Oh Daryl, I can't do that,” she sighed “I have my jobs to do everybody needs me to pitch in and we need to get back to some sort of normality here.”  
He regarded his hands again, nodded slightly and chewed his lip, considering his next words carefully. “Everybody does need you, sure. But you ain't much use to anybody if you're not at full strength.”  
She opened her mouth to protest, but he gently placed his hand on her right one where it lay on the bed. She looked down at it. Yet another physical interaction she hadn't initiated, her heart raced.   
Daryl continued, using that soft tone he reserved for her, “Everybody needs you to be a hundred percent. Hell, I need you to be, otherwise there's no one to cook up them squirrels I catch,,” he stumbled over the words, averting his eyes, “Please rest. For – do it for me.” The last sentence tumbled out of his mouth, almost begging her to agree. He waited a moment before meeting her gaze, unsure if she'd be angry at the emotional blackmail he'd deployed.   
Her eyes narrowed and she arranged her features into a look of mock outrage, “I can't say no to that, can I, Dixon?” She removed her hand from his and playfully punched his shoulder. “I'll take it easy for a day. Two days max.”  
Daryl broke out into a smile, “Had to play dirty cos I know you'd never agree otherwise, woman.”   
“Oh, I'll get you back,” she warned, raising her eyebrow and trying to appear serious, “You have no idea how dirty I can play…” She clapped her hand to her mouth, realising how that sounded and coloured slightly.   
Daryl's eyes widened, he enjoyed seeing her blushing over her flirtations, usually he got red and flustered. “That a promise?” he replied, a smile playing at his mouth and his dick hardened at the thought.  
“I – er –“ she started, before she laughed and gently hit him again, “Stop!”  
He laughed, a genuine, carefree sound that shocked her. She'd never witnessed that before, there hadn't been a lot of opportunities for fun and merriment and Daryl's usual demeanour was one of irritation and seriousness, with the occasional snort or momentary chuckle. That laugh lit up his face, made him seem younger and carefree and she knew he had no idea how attractive he was. She bit back the urge to take that face in her hands and kiss him.   
She realised she'd broken out into a grin along with him and she wished that moment would never end but she rearranged herself into a sitting position, her back against the cold wall, her legs stretched out, crossed at the ankle and hanging off the bed adjacent to Daryl's right arm.   
He glanced down at her long slim limbs and chewed on his lip. He longed to run his hand from her ankle, up her thigh and back again. His excitement grew again and he looked down at his hands. “I can help you back to your cell,” he said, trying not to imagine how silky her skin probably felt, though if he stood now, the tent in his pants would be unmissable.   
“That sounds like an offer I can't refuse, taking me my bed.” She had retorted without thinking and realised she had let the words tumble out unheeded. Her cheeks flushed again and she dropped her eyes to her hands in her lap.   
He sat back in the chair and regarded her, part of him enjoying the sensation of her being flustered around him, but also waiting for a certain part of himself to relax.  
“Sorry,” she mumbled, “Think I'm still a little out of it. From the fever, you know.”   
He raised an eyebrow, a half smile playing with his lips, “Uh-huh,” he answered, still marvelling at her awkwardness. “Maybe you should get sick more often.”   
Her eyes widened at his words before her face broke out into her trademark dimpled grin. “Stop.” she repeated, chuckling again.   
Suddenly her face changed and she wrinkled her delicately freckled nose, “I could really use a shower, probably smell worse than the dead.” She tilted her head, “Don't worry Dixon, I wouldn't expect your help in that area, but maybe you could see if the generators can be fired up a little?”  
He snorted, “Way you been talkin’ you could use a cold shower.” He thought he'd probably need one later when he thought over their playful interaction in delicious detail.  
Carol rolled her eyes and tapped his arm playfully with her foot. He stood, “I'll go start up the power for some warm water, then when you're done gettin’ cleaned up, we'll get you back to your cell.” He failed to add that he would have happily scrubbed her back. He reminded himself that she was still recovering from the virus and didn't want to get too inappropriate, she had only just returned from death’s door, after all. Although being inappropriate with her was a fantasy that would keep him awake that night, he was sure.   
“Daryl,” she began, looking serious. He loved hearing her saying his name, still immersed in his heated train of thought, he recalled part of one of the scenarios which ran around his head involved him making her say it as her hands scrunched up the sheets on his bed. He licked his lips at the imagined image, but dampened down his mind to concentrate on what she was going to say. He needed to get a goddamn grip, instead of sitting fantasising like some hormone ridden teenager.  
“Would you let me know when they're burying Beth? I want to be there, she was a sweet girl.” She dropped her eyes to her lap once again as she filled up.   
He moved back to the chair and lowered himself into it, grabbing her left hand in his. “Hey,” he said softly, ducking his head to try to catch her gaze. She was concentrating on her hands in his in an effort not to cry. “’Course you'll be there, think it'll be later on today.” A tear slid down her cheek, tracing a well worn track left after all those shed for their loved ones. It made its way across her jaw and down her neck, Daryl fighting the urge to wipe it away with his mouth. He hated seeing her cry, words dried up in his mouth and he just wanted to envelope her with his body, to hug the hurt away. Here he was, surly Daryl Dixon, fretting over a woman's sadness. He could scarcely believe that the end of the world had allowed him to find his own new world in Carol. She began tracing her thumb over his knuckles and he almost melted at her touch. Dismissing his thoughts again he took his other hand and placed it under her chin, raising her eyes to him, where they instantly filled and overflowed as her chin wobbled.  
“She was just a kid, Daryl.” Carol wept, “She'd lost so much. She was always seeing the good in everything. Then there's Hershel and Maggie! They – I -I…just...it should have been me. She had more to offer this world. “ Her words trailed off as she used the back of her right hand to wipe away the tears.   
Daryl chewed at his lip, barely able to listen to her talk like that. He dropped her hand and climbed onto the bed beside her, placing an arm around her slender shoulders, his body pressed into her side. She leaned into him and he placed his cheek against the top of her hair.  
“Don't ever talk like that,” he scolded gently. He wanted to tell her that her even thinking that terrified him, that he refused to contemplate his life without her in it. She was like the sun to him, and even in the relatively short time that they'd been in each other's obits, she was always there. Forever on his mind, his first thought on waking up, before sleep and when returning to the prison. He'd heard the phrase ‘light of my life’ before and had always dismissed the cliché, but now he understood the notion. He rarely cast his mind back to that time after T-Dog’s death when it had been assumed that Carol too had been lost. He'd genuinely felt bereft during those days when she'd been stuck in the tombs, the realisation had hit him then that she'd always been around him, even if only in his peripheral vision or the background, his one constant. With her gone, he'd lost the person he was closest to.   
Her tears fell onto his plaid shirt and he closed his eyes; he also couldn’t bare her crying or upset. Hadn't been able to ever since Sophia stumbled out of that barn and he'd immediately grabbed Carol and held her as though physically trying to keep her body and her heart from breaking.   
She pulled away and wiped at her eyes with her hand again. “Sorry,” she mumbled, those blue orbs of hers shimmering with sadness, “Its so sad. Should be used to it by now, but it never gets any easier to deal with.” She looked at him, her expression radiating sorrow.  
Daryl sighed, “I know. I'm tired of losing people too.” His voice was soft, gentle, that one he reserved only for her. His tone touched her soul and in that moment, she was glad she had survived. Then felt guilt at such a selfish thought. A tear slid down her freckled cheek and he reached up to swipe it away gently with his thumb, cupping his face with his hand.   
She leaned forward into his touch, into his personal space and he took an involuntary breath, realising he could close the gap between them and try to kiss it all better. Their eyes locked together and they were inches apart, Daryl's hand still on her face. His gaze dropped to her lips before roaming back up to her eyes, he could hear his heart thudding in his eyes as everything else fell away and all that was left was her. 

~


	17. Chapter 17 - Burning Question

Goosebumps broke out on her skin as she realised their lips were centimetres apart and he had her eyes on hers. Carol instinctively bit her bottom lip as time ticked by, silence settling over them like a blanket. A thought flitted across her mind, which she initially attempted to ignore. She heard him take an intake of breath and at that point, she knew she had to bring up the subject, it was like a band-aid which needed to be ripped off.   
“Daryl?” she breathed into the quiet.   
“Hmmm?” he murmured, his eyes still on her lips, licking his slowly, deliciously, if she was honest.   
“When I was asleep earlier,” she was choosing her words carefully, hoping not to spook him, “I thought I heard you whisper something. Maybe?”  
That broke the moment. Daryl moved away slightly and Carol knew he was wary of what was coming next.   
Daryl felt like his world tilted on its axis in that moment. She had heard him. It was now fight or flight time. Instinct kicked in, and he knew he had to get himself out of this moment until he had time to mull it over. It wasn't that the words he had spoken weren't true. The problem was that they were, but he was totally unprepared to discuss them.  
“I – I – I’m not – er – I don’t think so….” His words trailed off, a blush spread up his neck and face and he lowered his eyes.  
Carol shifted her body, watching him. His reaction confirmed that he knew what she was talking about. She knew him well enough to read him and his reactions. Perhaps she should be upset that he was now almost denying it, but this was Daryl, he didn't do feelings easily. She sighed, about to reassure him when he gathered himself up off the bed.   
“Gonna go see when they're havin’ the ceremony, so’s you don't miss it.” He muttered, focusing on the floor. He made to back away as Michonne appeared behind him.   
“Shit!” he cursed as his foot caught on the leg of the chair beside the bed, and he almost tripped, his face aflame. He ignored Michonne who was eyeing him with interest.   
“Daryl, it's ok,” Carol began soothingly, trying to rescue the situation. She knew she should have resisted bringing it up, despite Glenn’s notion that this was the time to grab the bull by the horns.  
“Pfft,” Daryl was muttering, backing out of the room as though it was on fire. “Make sure ya rest,” he directed to Carol who now had a bemused expression on her face, trying not to smile.  
He rubbed the back of his neck, still blushing, “Ah, see ya in a while.” With that, he disappeared, both women observing him in silence.   
Michonne turned to Carol, eyebrows raised, “What the hell was that about?!”  
Carol laughed a little, “Oh,” she shook her head, “You know Daryl, he was just…..being Daryl.”  
“Yeah, but I haven't seen him blush quite like that before,” said Michonne, with a smile on her face, “Everything ok?”  
“Yes,” sighed Carol, shrugging, “It will be, I think.”   
Michonne looked confused but she gathered herself together. Daryl and Carol tended to operate on their own level and most of the group had accepted that their bond was unique, sometimes it was best not to question it too much. Just let them get on with their often non verbal communication.  
“How are you feeling?” Michonne perched on the end of the bed.   
Carol ran a hand through her hair, “A little weak. And grubby, truth be told.” She pulled a face and surveyed her outfit. “I look and smell hideous too, I bet.” She thought back to the teasing between herself and a pregnant Lori when they first arrived at the prison a couple of months ago.   
“You look incredible for a woman who's had a life threatening illness,” scolded Michonne playfully. “But, Glenn asked us to put the generator on, which we did. He's had a shower, but as he's as weak as a kitten, he almost passed out in there. So I have been sent to be your shower buddy.” She gave her friend a huge smile.   
“Shower buddy?” asked Carol cynically. “I've been in worse states than this and had to clean myself up, believe me. I think I can handle a shower.” She snorted.   
Michonne raised her sinewy arms in mock surrender, “I know, I know. So maybe I'll just hover in the doorway of the shower block and you holler if you get into difficulty.”  
“What if I pass out and can't shout?” questioned Carol, raising an amused eyebrow.   
“Then I'll come a runnin’ when I hear the thud!” laughed Michonne. “Come on, honey. We only got an hour before….” Her words trailed off.   
“The funeral” finished Carol. The women exchanged sorrowful looks. “You think maybe Beth should be buried with her guitar?” Carol suggested, “She loved music so much.”  
Michonne leaned over and rubbed her friend's arm, “We’ll make sure of it, if it hasn't all ready been arranged. We've all missed you, Carol. You know that, right?”  
Carol rolled her eyes which were in danger of spilling fresh tears, “Yeah,” she snorted, “You missed my cooking, you mean! I heard all about how you burn everything!”  
“Huh,” Michonne mocked outrage, “Dixon been running his mouth? I'll kick his ass. He can't cook for shit either.”  
Carol grinned. “Hmmm, I also heard the other jobs kinda fell by the wayside too.”  
“Yeah,” sighed Michonne, “There wasn't many of us not affected and the other kids were put in the administration building out of the way. Then we had the run for medication and that weak fence to deal with. Plus, there's still bodies to get rid of, and it was hard to keep on top of everything. We were all worried about our friends in here.” She looked at her friend, “Some of us out there were more worried than others. A certain Mr Dixon was quietly out of his mind. Over you.”  
Feeling her cheeks colour, Carol tried to change the subject. After his eagerness to run away just now, Carol didn't want to even think about Daryl or his feelings or that box in her mind which threatened to spill over at any time.   
“Shouldn't we be getting to the shower block while there's warm-ish water? I don't want to miss the ceremony.” She made to stand up, momentarily dizzy.   
Michonne rushed to take her arm but Carol declined, taking a second before being able to remain steadily upright. She had to soldier on, there was no time in this world now to wallow or succumb to weakness. The sooner she returned to normal, the better. Lives depended upon it and she refused to be the burden she had feared she was back in the Atlanta camp.   
Together the two women moved out of the quarantine block and Carol savoured her first taste of fresh air, thankful to be alive. 

 

~


	18. Moving On

Hershel read stoically from his trusty Bible in with the moderate heat of the afternoon behind him. The family gathered around the open grave in the shade of a tree to the left of the main prison grounds. Daryl was transported back to a similar funeral back at the farm. She'd stood in front of him then, grief etching her face in profile and now he watched her as he had then, worried that she may not be sufficiently recovered to stand for long periods.   
Maggie sobbed to his left, leaning against her husband for strength. Rick looked to have tears in his eyes, the rest stood solemnly, paying their respects to the dead girl laid to rest with her favourite instrument. Zack was to Glenn's left, he was leaning against a crutch, tears rolling down his face, his eyes cast downward as though hoping no one would notice his grief.  
Daryl saw Carol use her thumb to wipe away silent tears, he steeled himself from moving to her and diverting attention from the words being spoken. Carl sniffled, he was to Daryl's right and Rick placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.   
Zack inched forward and read aloud one of the poems Beth had written while in the prison. His voice was remarkably clear and strong.  
“Beth wrote this for me,” he explained, casting his eyes to the hole where the girl now lay. He took a moment and began:

“I may sit upon a throne of polished bones,  
Mingling with the scent of copper and hue of bloodshed.  
I may appear cold, uncaring and sneering,  
But, my love, you are forever in my heart and always in my head.  
Doubt and horror swirl about, shrieking and moaning on the still stagnant air,  
Do not fear the path ahead, my king, my warrior true,  
We shall walk together, into the dark with our metal blades drawn,  
For you give my weak spirit strength, my love, the sweet strength of you.   
But should our ways diverge, through trauma, plague or death,  
Think of me often, as I of you, with those eyes of yours aflame,  
The moment we met, my love, I became the fire burning in your soul,  
You became my strength, my power, whether apart or together, forever remain.” 

A silence fell as everyone absorbed the words and a tear ran down Zack’s face. He moved back to his previous position avoiding everyone’s gaze.   
Hershel finished with the Lord’s Prayer and they all stood, momentarily reflecting in the peace surrounding them. Tyreese stood alongside a mound of fresh earth, and when Rick indicated the funeral was over, the larger man began to cover the body and the guitar.   
They all dispersed after offering their condolences once again to Hershel and Maggie, who remained while Tyreese and Rick worked with the shovels.   
Carol walked back to the prison with Michonne at her arm, she looked pale and drawn. Daryl followed behind, unsure whether to apologise for his epic fail over her question earlier.   
Out on that medicine run, he'd promised himself that he would loosen the shackles of doubt and insecurity he had in regard to that woman. But when she brought up what she thought she'd heard, his most natural reaction was embarrassment and to flee. He sighed as he entered the building behind them, hearing Carol tell their friend that she needed to go lie down a while.   
Daryl let her head off to her cell, but appeared at the doorway as she was removing her cardigan.   
She cast a closed mouthed, tired smile at him, “You ok?” She enquired, casting aside the garment and laying down on her bed.   
“Gotta be,” he nodded, his mind racing, wondering what to say. All he could visualise was his awkward, embarrassing flight from her bedside earlier. He took a step inside and stood there at a loss until he realised her breathing was slow and steady; she had already fallen asleep.   
Tilting his head, he moved closer, thankful for the stealth he possessed from his years of tracking and watched her slumber. He had revelled in observing her sleep during last winter on the road. They had often shared a sleeping bag, layered up with clothes and wrapped up close for warmth. He maintained an outward appearance of complete chivalry, as though the sleeping arrangements were a necessity and he would offer the same to anyone. Truth be told, the idea to double up had occurred to him as a way to be close to her without his motives being questioned, and he probably wouldn't have been so eager to do it for anyone else.  
Those long, bleak, dark nights had been anything but cold for him, the knowledge that she believed in him and valued him burned through him from the inside out. Now he watched her still features once again; she was so beautiful and she really had no idea.   
The clashing of pans and utensils stirred him from his reverie. He turned his head in the direction of the sound and a thought occurred to him.   
~   
Suddenly coming round, Carol was greeted with subtle darkness and minimal noise. Her brow furrowed. She could hardly remember falling asleep, not even bothering to place her spare knife under her pillow in case it was needed. She reached into the pockets of her pants and found the clock face she still had. The watch had been a gift from Ed, a symbol of their marriage if ever there'd been one; the cheap strap had snapped long ago and all that remained was the face. If their marriage had been a sham, broken before it began, then the clock face, still ticking despite surviving the almost catastrophic lock in at the CDC, the fall of the farm and then the Governor’s attack, perhaps represented her own ability to withstand trauma. Perhaps she had discovered her strength despite and because of Ed. The time read 8:03pm.   
Carol noticed that desk had been littered with candles, all glowing merrily. She stood, pulling on her earlier discarded cardigan and wrapped it around herself, hugging her arms to her slender frame. Once at the desk, she noticed a silver dome sat, clearly housing a plate underneath. She had no idea where a dome to keep food warm had been sourced from, but she smiled at the gesture. Upon lifting it up, there was a plate with creamed potatoes, and meat in a sauce smelling of spices, which could be rabbit or squirrel. Her stomach reacted to the smell and rumbled in response. Picking up the fork from the tray, she found a piece of paper ripped from one of her notebooks, and a single word scrawled on it in pencil:  
SORRY  
D x  
Smiling to herself, Carol ate as much as she could manage. She then picked up the note and thought for a moment, holding it to her mouth. Setting it down, she headed out of the cell and climbed the metal staircase wearily, surprised at how her strength was waning so quickly. At the top of the stairs she inhaled deeply, feeling a little shaky.   
Daryl chose that moment to emerge from his cell, a small walkie-talkie and a screwdriver in his hands. He dropped both objects on the floor and hurried over to Carol, mumbling about her taking things easily. Wrapping his arm around her waist, she leaned into him, despite her protestations that she was fine.   
Inside his cell, which was moderately ordered and near, he eased her onto his bed before sitting alongside her. The shadows from the candle providing light softened his already handsome features as he cast her a shy smile.   
“Thanks for my dinner,” Carol began, her voice gentle and melodic. “The meat was very well spiced.”  
Daryl snorted softly, “Ty was chef tonight. I still can't feel my mouth.”  
“Well that's not good,” replied Carol, her eyes on the flickering flame of the candle, “Its always best to feel things.” She flicked her eyes over to him, checking that he understood the meaning of her words.   
He opened his mouth to reply but she reached up and placed her finger on his lips.   
“Just listen,” instructed Carol, her blue eyes shimmering and Daryl inclined his head slightly in understanding. “The note you left,” she started, removing her hand from his face and turning he gaze back to the flame of the candle,. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You don't have to say anything about before. I know you.” Carol wanted him to understand that whether he had said those words or not, there was no pressure to analyse or discuss them.   
Daryl took a deep breath and blew it out of his mouth slowly. “Shouldn't’ve ran away.” He shrugged, “I'm not the man you think I am. I ain't honourable and I ain't no knight on a white horse.”   
“You're not the man you think you are, Daryl,” Carol nudged him with her elbow, “I wouldn't be on my fourth life if you hadn't saved me all those times, remember? You've changed, we all have. You were like a boy and now you're a man, you know that. And screw the white horse thing. I prefer a guy with a motorcycle..…” She turned to catch his eye and he laughed.  
In that moment, his affection for this woman threatened to overcome him. She got him. Completely in tune with him and his heart sang with that knowledge.   
“I keep remembering that poem of Beth’s,” said Carol with a shiver. “She was so clever with her songs and her writing. Those words she wrote for Zack were beautiful.”  
Daryl chewed his lip and nodded, not sure how to respond, due to the fact that he wished he had the talent to formulate the words to explain everything to Carol. That he had whispered those words and that they were barely adequate to describe how he felt.   
She stifled a yawn. “Mind if I lay down on top of here for a second?”  
“Borin’ you, am I?” teased Daryl, knowing from the dark circles around her eyes that she must still be exhausted from her illness. “C’m’ere,” he said softly and opened his arms. She snuggled into his chest and they lay down on top of the covers on his bed. She lay with the front of her body pressed into the side of his, his arm snaked around her back and his fingers traced a pattern on her arm.   
Carol closed her eyes for a moment. She was happy to wait for this man, she'd wait until her last breath. He made her feel safe and warm and she never wanted that to change. Life was now about survival and about treasuring moments like these, the good ones. Daryl Dixon was all that was special in the world, he just had to believe that himself.   
“Carol?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.   
She tried not to smile to herself at the sound of him using her actual name. “Mmmm?” she answered.  
“Been thinkin’” he started.   
“Oooh, Pookie, did that hurt?” she put on a mocking baby voice and he tickled her ribs in revenge.   
Once they'd calmed themselves he continued, “With winter comin’, I thought, maybe, we should think about sharing a cell. You know, for warmth.” He shrugged as though it was no big deal, he was just being gentlemanly as he had been last winter on the road. As if he'd offer to share a cell with anyone. They both knew this proposal was his way of taking steps forward. Baby steps.   
Carol rose and propped her head up on her elbow, her other arm rested across his stomach. “Oh yeah,” she said, nodding, an amused look on her face, “It's a good idea, sharing to keep warm.” Her eyes flicked up to his and they were dancing with mischief in the subtle light from the candle. “If we want to avoid being cold, we'd better share a bed,” She used her forefinger to travel up his torso which was clad in his plaid shirt, and Daryl felt himself grow hard, the tantalising lightness of her touch combined with the feeling of her nail through the fabric was all he could focus on.   
He opened his mouth to speak but she put her finger once again across his lips. “Or we can just share a bunk,” she whispered as his eyes settled on her mouth, “But I gotta go on top…” She took her bottom lip in her mouth, biting it and ran her finger back down to his belt before breaking out into her beatific smile.   
Daryl's mind exploded with images from his many fantasises and his dick twitched in before he could try to think of something else. He felt heat rise to his face as he met her gaze, sure she'd be able to feel his longing for her through his jeans. He was thankful he hadn't changed into his worn but comfortable sweat pants. “Well,” he started, sounding a lot more confident than he felt, “Maybe we should take turns on top, see what feels comfortable.”  
She bit her lip again, “Hmmmm, ok. Your place or mine?”  
They both laughed together and Carol lay her head on Daryl's chest and he was sure she would feel his heart racing to burst out of his chest. 

~


	19. New Faces

The decision was made that Daryl should move to share with Carol. Even though they were surviving during the damned apocalypse, it baffled Daryl as to how the women still managed to accumulate quite as much stuff, so it was easier for him to relocate. The fact that moving down a floor would separate him from the noise of Glenn and Maggie going at it like rabbits was a pleasant bonus. He wouldn't admit it out loud, of course but the main advantage was the increase in time spent with Carol. They hadn't physically shared a bed, however. Daryl was secretly looking forward to the temperature dropping enough that he could valiantly offer his services in supplying body heat. His pondering of that prospect alone could maintain a furnace, such was his desire for her.   
Three days after Beth’s funeral, Daryl found himself loading up his bike for an ordinary supply run. He didn't particularly want to go, if he was honest, he would have happily spent the day doing odd jobs. Jobs that would, more than likely, happen to be in general vicinity of a certain silver haired beauty, who seemed to be mostly fighting fit again. He sighed as he placed a handgun in the pouch which was attached to the side of his bike along with a bottle of water.   
They hadn't officially notified the rest of their family of their cohabitation. If anyone had noticed, no one mentioned anything specifically, bar Glenn, who raised his eyebrows and grinned at Daryl when they had passed each other on the metal stairs, as the hunter was transporting a backpack of belongings down to Carol's cell.   
Heading out on today's run with him was Rick, Michonne, Sasha and Bob. The air held a chill to it, the nights were drawing in and they were definitely in the grip of autumn’s hues; everything seemed to be shades of reds, or the burnt orange tones of copper and rust. Daryl wasn't a fan of this time of year, he much preferred the freshness and promise of spring. The end of each year brought about the death and decay of much of the landscape.   
Thinking about death and decay, he felt the pockets of his leather jacket, found his cigarettes and lit one up, surveying the congregation of walkers at that vulnerable patch of fence. The situation hadn't improved, nor had the council formulated any plan of action to overcome it, except to carry on strengthening the supports. If it weren't for that weak spot, Daryl might allow himself to feel quietly optimistic that his life here could only get better.   
The most important person to him in this strange new world had survived the plague which had descended upon them, indeed, those closest to him, his new family, were all still alive. He now looked forward to the evenings and nights after dinner even more, owing to the fact that he had Carol as his cellmate. His awkward reaction to her questioning his pitiful bedside admission had been brushed aside, the knowledge that she knew but was prepared not to push the issue intensified his feelings; he would move mountains for that woman.   
He was under no illusions. She was far too good for him. Had the world not fallen, there was no way a woman like her would ever be close to a guy like him, but she kept reiterating that his own opinion of himself was wrong. Indeed, she looked at him with such affection and that coupled with her complete trust of him, made him anxious that he could only ever let her down.   
Finishing his cigarette, he watched as Tyreese, Glenn and Maggie approached the weakened fence area and set about trying to take down as many of the moaning bodies as they could. There were beams of wood stacked near them which were ready for use to strengthen the towering railings.   
Turning his head, he saw Sasha and Bob loading up a pick up, their grins and high spirits telling Daryl that they'd spend the entire trip flirting and giving each other the eye. He should pull Bob to one side and warn him against stepping out of line regarding his inclination to enjoy drinking the hard stuff, but so far as he knew, the army medic hadn't touched a drop since the incident at the veterinary college. Daryl thought maybe he should have a word with him anyway, ensure that the lovey dovey stuff didn't lead to any dangerous situations should guards be lowered out there. However, if Carol was ever out on a run, Daryl knew that he'd spend the entire time ensuring no harm would become her, even at his own expense. So if anything, perhaps Bob’s guard would be heightened with Sasha there.  
“Hey, Daryl,” her voice floating on the breeze from behind startled him. He turned and was hit with her smile, although she had to squint in the low morning sun.   
“Everythin’ ok?” he asked immediately, out of habit. He was sure she would grow tired of that question, but it was like a reflex for him now.  
“Yeah,” she nodded, pulling a sheet of paper from her pants pocket, “Just wondered if you look out for whatever you can from this list?”  
He reached out to take it from her and their fingers brushed, perhaps lingering for seconds longer than necessary. They exchanged sweet smiles and Daryl looked down at the list. Most of it was standard requests from the kids Carol taught self defence to, although her classes had been suspended until the following week.   
“You put those pyjama things on here?” he remarked, seeing her familiar swirly writing.   
Carol nodded, “I'm a little concerned about the cold weather, some of the younger ones and the old Woodbury folks could struggle once the temperature drops. Plus, I put some things on there for Judith, extra blankets, hats and socks. Rick said you were heading for that abandoned mall, near Adamsville? Hopefully the stores there will have some decent stuff left in them.” She pulled at the sleeves of her pink fleece hoody, which was clearly a size too big for her. The colour suited her, intensified the blue of her eyes and the silky paleness of her hair.  
“I'll get everything I can. We'll be back tomorrow afternoon,” Daryl replied, wishing once again that he didn't have to go. Although they were sharing a cell, and had kept to separate beds, neither of them was quite brave enough to suggest bunking up together yet.   
Now they stood, barely a foot apart and the memory of the last run he'd been on, when she had been at death’s door reared up in his mind. They'd been lucky that time, they'd found what they needed, Carol and Glenn had pulled through, but for how much longer would their luck hold?   
“Stay safe,” she muttered, seemingly as reluctant as he was for him to go, her eyes were lowered to the ground as though she couldn't look at him.   
“Hey,” Daryl said, stepping closer and raising her chin with his right hand, their eyes instantly meeting. His eyes searched her worried ones. “What is it?”  
Carol shrugged, unable to tell him that she had treasured the last few days, days where he had been almost constantly at her side, the two of them eating together and in their own bubble after the scare of her illness. This was reality crashing down on her, he was always going to be the one at risk because he was always top of the list for runs. They were never going to know true peace and would always live with that uncertainty.   
“Just don't want you to go,” she breathed, the warm gentleness of his touch under her chin coupled with the intensity of his eyes almost making her dizzy. “I've liked having my own personal slave, at my beck and call.” Breaking the spell, she took half a step back and chuckled.   
Daryl snorted, “Oh yeah,” he teased as she grabbed hold of the hand he lowered from her face, “Like bein’ waited on hand and foot, huh?”  
She widened her eyes and grinned, “Maybe. I could get used to making demands of you.”  
Smiling, Daryl threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close to his side. He lowered his face so that his mouth was near to her left ear, instantly noticing the goosebumps which broke out on her skin at the feeling of his breath on her. They were leaning against his bike, as activity in the yard swarmed around them.   
“Maybe I got a demand for you,” whispered Daryl, watching in awe as a visible shiver ran through her. He was responsible for giving her that thrill. Him. Fumbling, awkward Daryl Dixon had just made a woman quiver, and that response from her turned him on. He wondered what it would be like to watch and feel her shimmer under a more intimate touch.   
Carol turned her head toward him slightly, the sides of their foreheads touching. “Yeah?” she murmured, a smile still curving those lips of hers.   
Realising that he was guilty of the exact same thing he'd been mentally berating Bob over just seconds before, Daryl decided that perhaps flirtations were a welcome relief in the environment they now inhabited. “Yeah,” he smiled, his arm now resting on her opposite shoulder, so he was able to use it to pull her closer still, his arm almost around her neck. “Keep our bed warm for me,” he whispered, not daring to look right at her. “You know, with the nights gettin’ colder, maybe we should bunk up.”  
She laughed softly, “Oh, I heard it's gonna be bitter from tomorrow night. So bunking up is the sensible thing to do.” She turned, arched an eyebrow and attempted to look serious, “But I'll still be wearing some of those pyjamas you're gonna bring back.” She gently punched his shoulder, “You see about getting yourself a pair too. Last thing we want is you to be cold of a night.” With that she smirked, and set off walking away from him across the courtyard to the awaiting laundry. He watched her go, groaning to himself at the view of her ass and how she could tie him up in excited knots with just words.   
If they were sharing a bed, Daryl knew he'd be more than hot under the collar, his feelings for that woman could heat the entire prison.   
~   
Hours later, Daryl killed the bike’s engine near a hedgerow on the road which led to South View Mall. The group had decided that the noise from the bike may alert any hostiles who may be sheltering in the complex, so it was hidden in amongst the leaves while Daryl hitched a ride in the truck driven by Rick the rest of the way. Michonne sat between them in the cab, with Bob and Sasha following behind in their own vehicle.   
The inside of the truck was silent as the three friends scanned the area they drove through for signs of life, or as was the case now, reanimated death. Walkers could be disposed of methodically, it was the living that now posed the more significant danger.   
They navigated the parking lot of the mall, remains of decaying bodies scattered around, the wind casually blowing litter amongst body parts and debris. There sat a number of abandoned cars and one ambulance, it's back doors open and swinging with an ominous creak. One SUV sat crushed up against the side of the building. It had obviously been used as a ram to try to access a loading bay without success, it's front end dented and squashed, the metal door of the store still intact.   
Rick slowed as he neared the main entrance, eventually coming to a stop. After applying the handbrake, he turned to his passengers, his right arm casually resting on the steering wheel.   
“Looks promising,” he said, his eyes still scanning the landscape as the truck carrying Bob and Sasha pulled up alongside them.   
Michonne sighed, “You've gone and done it now, Rick.”  
“What?” questioned Rick, casting a puzzled look at her and then Daryl.   
Daryl groaned, “Don’ listen to her man.” He shook his head, “She got this crazy idea that if you say anythin’ too optimistic before goin’ inside anyplace, or doin’ anythin’ out here, it'll go wrong.”  
Michonne crossed her arms, “You can never be too careful out here, Dixon.”  
“Yeah, but these superstitions of yours are damned crazy,” Daryl peered round his friend and raised his eyebrows at Rick before adding conspiratorially, “Women.”  
Rick grinned, “It'll be fine, I'm here.” He patted Michonne’s thigh and lingered slightly too long, a gesture which did not go unnoticed by anyone in the cab.   
Rick cleared his throat and made to exit the truck, trying to avoid the awkwardness of that moment.   
Michonne had been stunned for a second but quickly recovered and followed Rick out of the driver’s side.   
Daryl smirked to himself a little and shoved open the passenger door, he had suspected their leader was developing a soft spot for the badass samurai. Maybe if things developed between those two, the focus of attention from the others would slip away from himself and Carol.   
They all gathered their weapons from the trucks and prepared themselves, Sasha carrying a M24 rifle with a scope due to the fact that she was an excellent shot. The rest had knives and hand guns, Daryl with his trademark crossbow. After some whispered deliberation, they decided to use their usual circle formation to enter the building, which gave them maximum vantage points and had everyone covered.   
Once the group was in position with their bags on their backs and their senses in high alert, they moved steadily up the three stone steps which led to the main entrance of the mall. Revolving glass doors had been presumably shot through, and two sets of automatic doors sat either side, which were also shattered. Metal shutters hung down from the inside of the entrance, but they had been wrenched, shot at and prised up to allow access.  
Rick and Daryl stepped through the door frame first, the group as a whole moved silently, hyper aware of the possible dangers. Only Rick had not been on the run which resulted in Zack’s injury, the rest were only too familiar with how quickly a seemingly mundane trip could turn life threatening.   
They were all stood in their formation inside the entrance of the mall, which before the fall of the world, would have been a hive of activity.   
There was little they could do but take in the destruction which had taken place here. Two huge escalators dominated the main hall, with battered glass elevators either side, route finders and information boards had been vandalised, smashed up, shot and burned. Litter, dirt, pools of fetid water mingled around on the tiled floor. The glass panels on the roof above them had been shot through, thus the amount of rainwater they were currently standing in.  
Worse still was the smell, made more potent by the number of rotten corpses, the innards and blood spread across the walls and by the broken shells of walkers who hadn't been put down effectively, which lay decomposing in the water. A number of decapitated heads gnashed their teeth, the sound jarring against the otherwise silence.   
Three separate areas led off from the main hall, shops, outlets and eateries spanning two floors, all interspaced with elevators and escalators at regular intervals.   
There were signs hanging on stone pillars which indicated directions for well known stores, Daryl nudged Rick and they surveyed them to determine the best route to take. Rick nodded his head for them to take the east route first, it led to large department store, a baby shop which would likely hold items for Judith, as well as a number of restaurants and a chemist; their priorities were always food and medicine.   
Once at the east wing, Rick made some noise by further smashing an already partly shattered store window.   
They waited, Daryl eyeing the display in the window his friend had just destroyed. A small stuffed panda toy lay on its side, surprisingly clear of any shards of glass. While the others were studying the shadows around them, he reached in and swiped up the cuddly animal, a hint of a smile on his lips, and shoved it in his inner coat pocket. He'd say it was for Judith of course, but give it to Carol for safe keeping; the panda’s blue eyes were almost the same shade as hers.   
Navigating carefully after waiting for any movement, the five of them made their way towards the shops which may be of best use to them. As they moved onward, nesting birds fluttered around the ceiling and the only other sound was the breathing of the group.   
Although the temperature had dropped outside, Daryl could feel sweat prickling his scalp, one look at Rick showed the sheriff’s hair glistening with moisture. An uneasy sensation of being watched had settled over the hunter. His ears strained to pick up the merest rustle of an alien sound but he failed to pinpoint any suspicious movement or even any shift in atmosphere.   
While tracking prey, Daryl had become an expert in sensing the presence of life, simply by almost telepathically ‘reading’ the air around him. His fingers tingled with an anxious energy, and he could feel the wariness of Rick beside him.   
They had arrived at the baby goods store, coming to a halt at the door whose glass panels remained in tact. Daryl scanned the area fully, the hallways around were still covered in litter, leaves and standing water a couple of inches deep. He raised his head, the upper level had metal railings which looked down onto the area below, most of his view was in shadow, the waning winter sun having moved westwards over the course of the day. He tensed as he thought he caught a ghost of movement a distance away from the balcony, freezing completely, even holding his breath for a few seconds. Shaking his head, he decided that perhaps his imagination was running away with him, his unease creating monsters in the darkness.   
Rick tried the door to the shop and found it unlocked, which was odd, but it wasn't uncommon to find houses and buildings unsecured. The end of the old world had arrived at varying times for most of the population. Rick turned and motioned to Sasha, who moved to the head of the group and raised her rifle, the rest covering her.   
She entered the gloomy store, with Bob to her left, who headed to the cash register and rang the old fashioned bell sitting on the desk. They waited. Nothing approached, no snarling or moaning came from the bowels of the outlet. Sasha swept the room with her eye on the scope, methodically but with speed. She nodded her head and turned to the rest.   
“I'll stand watch at the door,” she whispered and headed back the way they came.   
Rick pulled a list from his pocket and squinted at it in the minimal light they had, before setting off to locate the items he needed.   
Michonne had found herself near the baby cribs and she stood sadly running her hand over a dust covered yellow mobile hanging from the ceiling. She turned and saw Daryl watching her. She spun away from his gaze. He was unaware that she had lost her own little one a while before she found the group, but he recognised loss when he saw it. He inclined his head a fraction before moving off down an aisle holding childhood illness remedies, swiping most of them into a bag, thus missing his friend attempting to compose herself.  
Five minutes later, the hunter was staring at a selection of children’s books, one in particular stood out; the title read ‘One Word from Sophia’ in colourful letters, a picture of a young girl and a giraffe on the cover. He sighed and ran a finger down the spine, closing his eyes to erase the memory which bubbled up in his mind. The book next to it was called ‘Guess How Much I Love You’ and Daryl picked it up, the illustrations more sedate in colouring to the others. It was a small book made of board, but after flipping to the opening page, he decided to slip that into the small front pocket of his bag.   
Bob had moved to watch the entrance of the store with Sasha, eager to be around her, as Michonne, who had gathered herself, was loading formula into a shopping cart.   
Rick strolled down the main aisle having raided the clothing section as well as stocking up on fleece blankets. Daryl returned to the shelves holding the natural remedies and picked up boxes of teething powder which Carol had mentioned in passing the previous morning. Although Judith was still young, Daryl had been amazed to learn that she could begin teething soon and that the process could be painful for everyone. These powders promised to ease pain and settle upset stomachs.   
Rick approached, “I think we got everythin’ we can in here.”  
Daryl nodded, securing his backpack on both shoulders.   
“Lets check out the kitchens of the restaurants and fast food joints, if we grab another shopping cart we can load big items in them and wheel them out to the trucks,” suggested Rick, to which Daryl agreed. The latter felt uncomfortable in this mall, and wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, whether it was that the place seemed too empty and abandoned to be true or if it was the feeling of being watched, he couldn't tell.   
Rick signalled to the others and they gathered together in a line formation. Leaving the baby store as quietly as they had entered, they were once again out and heading toward a burger bar further along the strip.   
Michonne’s shopping cart had a squeaky wheel and she cringed each time it sounded, casting apologetic looks to her friends.   
Sasha alternated between scanning the area in front of them and turning to check the rear.   
The burger place had been originally designed with a retro 1950s theme but now had a film of dirt and dust over it.   
Daryl approached a large window and rubbed at the intact glass to peer inside. A walker hit the window with force, splattering blood and skin against it and making the hunter jump in shock. He grimaced at the creature and moved further along to examine the inside more.   
“Think there's just the one in there,” he observed softly, speaking over his shoulder. He turned to the rest, “Sasha, you stand guard out here, we'll go in and grab anythin’ half decent.” Looking to Rick, he added, “That ok with you?”  
The sheriff smiled and placed a hand on his friend's broad shoulder, “Hey,” he replied, keeping his tone hushed, “You're the expert on runs now, I follow your lead.”  
Daryl inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment and Sasha moved to peer up and down the hallways. The rest of the group drew their knives in anticipation of there being more than one walker inside.   
Daryl pulled at the main door, found that it was also unlocked and on the count of three, they burst inside, the sheriff hurrying over to the dead one and putting it down in seconds. Rick looked round the place as the hunter began kicking fallen chairs around, the movement causing maximum noise.   
The inside of the restaurant was as grime ridden as the rest of the mall, the smell of decay, either from spoiled meat or rotten flesh made the groups eyes water.   
A walker emerged from an area Daryl assumed was the kitchen; it wore a soiled standard issue fast food worker uniform, half of its face hanging from its skull under a jauntily positioned baseball cap. Daryl raised his bow and shot it through it's only eye, the left one was missing and the thing flew backwards against a metal frying machine. Daryl moved across to Rick.   
“You think we're gonna find anything decent in here?” Daryl enquired, his eyes roaming the room, taking in the state of the place. “I'd say it's been cleared long ago.”  
Rick shrugged, “I told Carol we'd check anywhere that has cooking facilities. I'll go quickly scan the kitchen, just in case.” With that he took off further into the darkness at the back of the restaurant.   
Daryl sighed, this trip was beginning to have a more ominous air to it, and that wasn't just the stench of death swirling around them.   
“You seem kinda unenthused,” Michonne's voice came from behind him. She appeared at his side and he took a moment to appreciate her stealth; he hadn't sensed her approach.   
They were near to the serving counter and Daryl wished he had his cigarettes on him. They were currently sitting in the pouch on his bike a distance away from this place, and that was doing nothing to sedate his apprehension. He leaned against the counter and gave a small smile.   
“Hard to be enthused when you're in the burger joint from hell,” Daryl observed, “Feels like we ain't gonna find nothin’ worth anythin’ here.”  
Michonne smiled, “Ah, but as Glenn often says, the first rule of scavenging is that everything has its uses.”  
Daryl snorted, “He don't say that.”  
“Maybe not,” Michonne shrugged, “But he probably would if he were here. Look, there's a department store at the end of this strip, we'll head there next and see if we can stock up on winter clothes. I got a list off Carol.” She pulled a folded sheet of paper from the back pocket of her jeans.   
“You did?” asked Daryl, “I did too. She must really want those damned pyjamas.” A smile played at his mouth.   
“Think how happy she'll be if we bring back more than enough for everyone,” whispered Michonne, “She's so worried about the Woodbury kids and old folks getting cold. Finding this stuff would put her mind at ease.” She cast a glance at her friend, who had folded his arms across his chest and was leaning his lower back against the counter, chewing at his lips. “Enthused?” she asked.  
Daryl rolled his eyes and chuckled, “Maybe,” he replied. His mind’s eye was imagining Carol's happy smile if he rolled back to the prison with the clothing and blankets she wanted.   
Michonne flashed him a grin as though she knew exactly the scene which was playing out in his head.   
Rick emerged, carrying some packages and the shirt covering his left shoulder was covered in blood.  
Michonne hurried over to him, checking if he was hurt.   
“I'm fine, I'm fine,” soothed Rick, continuing his pace, “Just took down an old, fat walker. It got messy,” he held up the items he was carrying, “I got a good amount of charcoal, some batteries, put dome oil in my pack and they had this box of church candles, which is kinda weird but that's all there was. Back door to this place is hanging open. There are fields behind the mall, any Walkers or people passing by could just wander in. I say we move on.”  
Daryl and Michonne nodded in agreement as Rick placed the boxes he held in the shopping cart. The three of them headed out and were not surprised to find Bob at Sasha’s side again.   
Daryl felt a flare of irritation. Could the guy not stick to a task for five minutes without having to seek that woman out? The irritation gave way to a hint of empathy, he was possibly just as guilty as Bob for having a woman on the brain, he had been pulled towards Carol, right from the Atlanta Camp. Maybe the others had been regularly pissed at him for following her around. Even at the CDC, he'd gravitated toward her and Sophia, too inept and shy to strike up a decent conversation or excuse to get across to them that he cared. Now Sophia would never know, he'd always been the grouchy, dangerous redneck around her, and it saddened him because he was sure she'd have turned out to be her mother's daughter.   
They gathered together and began their walk down to the large department store which was at the end of the strip of shops. On one side of the walkway was all of the store fronts, running down the middle was sets of benches, each set of two with their backs to each other, and huge pots of what had once been wild flowers interspersed them.   
The other side of the corridor had more shops and each end met at the entrance to the three storey building they now stood looking at. Daryl caught a movement from the corner of his eye and turned to see a large rat jump from one of the flower pots and scurry away before he could shoot it. Sasha followed his gaze and shuddered.   
The store before them had all of its thick glass windows shot out, nuggets of debris littering the wet ground like fallen stars. Displays which had been in those windows were covered in glass, dirt and rubbish, pushed aside so that previous visitors here could enter the building without using the traditional entrance. The shutters across the main doors had been wrenched up like those outside, not before guns had been used to puncture holes in it.   
Daryl held his right hand up and moved slowly toward the window to the left of the doors. There was a partial sneaker footprint entering the store on the inner wooden floor of the display area and it was fresh. He motioned Rick over and pointed it out. The sheriff nodded his understanding and pulled out his weapon, Bob following suit and Michonne unsheathed her katana.   
Leaving their carts behind one of the flower displays, after a short debate, the group decided to creep into the building by navigating under the shutters which stood open up to hip height. Rick went under first, followed by Michonne, then Daryl and Bob before Sasha lowered her scope and entered last.   
Inside was dark and Rick and Daryl reached for their flashlights, while keeping their weapons of choice ready. They were amongst the gift section, although all shelving and display units had been destroyed. As they made their way through the mess, the beauty department loomed, also completely ruined.   
Daryl noticed graffiti on the wall to the left of them, sprawling words in red spray paint, “Trap”, “Turn back”, and “Nothing here” were daubed on the white space at intervals. He nudged Rick and indicated towards it with his head. Rick raised his eyebrows and studied the words.   
Rick leaned in closer to Daryl, “Could just be kids messing around,” he murmured, rubbing his sweaty forehead with the back of his forearm.   
“Mmmm,” muttered Daryl in reply. The feeling of unease had gathered a few pounds and sat heavily on his shoulders.   
“Let's keep our eyes and ears open,” Rick advised, as Michonne approached, taking in the messages on the wall, “We stay together, no one goes off trying to be a hero.”  
He caught the attention of Bob and Sasha and they gathered together, the multiple displays of the beauty hall in front of them. A mounted sign on a pillar to the right of the escalator advised that ladies wear was situated on the next floor up, along with menswear. Children's wear was up on the second floor next to homewares, so they began to climb with Sasha at the rear, rifle raised.   
Their heavy hiking boots made hollow metallic thuds as they tried to move as stealthily as possible, but they made it up to the next level without incident.   
Though none of them vocalised it, the feeling that they had stumbled into a kind of haunted house had settled over each member of the team, Daryl almost felt as though he was in that Alien movie Merle had made him watch years ago. That at any moment some hideous nightmare imagining was going to burst out of the darkness, all that was missing was the suspenseful music in the background.   
Michonne dismissed her sense of foreboding and took the lead amongst the women's clothes, opening her pack and filling it with garments. Rick, Daryl and Bob stood watch and Sasha moved amongst the aisles, rifle in hand, knife in the other, prepared for any emerging Walkers. Once Daryl's packed was filled with clothes, they decided to move up to children's wear to gather items for the older kids, and to check out homewares for more throws and blankets.   
Again, they mounted the steel steps in a line, Rick in front, gun drawn, then Daryl with this bow at the ready, followed by the others. It was even darker on this level, their flashlights mere pinpricks in the stifling blackness.   
Once at the top, Michonne picked out a sign hanging from the ceiling which indicated that they were in the kids section. Daryl placed his flashlight in his mouth and aimed it at the ground so that he spread some light there, lest they stumbled over any objects or dead bodies. Rick whispered to Michonne and Daryl that he and Bob would head to the home section further to the back of the store, while he asked Sasha to stay on guard and sweep the area.  
The group set about their tasks, Michonne once again seeming to know exactly which items to go for. Daryl stood near her, handing over his pack and placing his weapon down on a display unit. He took his flashlight and surveyed the tiled floor, running the beam of light over each square. His pattern stopped for a moment. The floor was by no means clean, but he had spotted a partial footprint like the one downstairs in the window, also fresh. He heard Michonne behind him clipping his bag shut and shoving it across the unit to him.   
Putting the flashlight back into his mouth, he placed the straps of the pack back on his shoulders, keeping the beam of light on the print, deciding that it looked on the small side to be from the foot of an adult male.   
“Daryl,” Rick’s voice rang out from the back of the store. He was attempting to sound neutral, but there was an edge to it.   
Looking round for Michonne, the hunter motioned for her to follow him, raising his bow as she readied her sword. Sasha began to approach from her vantage point near the top of the escalator, also catching the trepidation in their leader’s tone.   
Daryl reached Rick first, looking at the sheriff, who stood in front of a camping display.   
Rick turned to look at Daryl and Michonne, and he inclined his head towards the display. Around the plastic camp fire set up was a number of candy wrappers, opened tins of food and bottles of water. A small camping stove sat near the opened cans, with a China plate atop it.   
Rick’s flashlight scanned around the immediate area, the aisles behind the display held camping equipment and outdoor gear.  
Leaning down, Daryl studied the rubbish, ran his hand around the stove and also examined the plastic grass upon which two four man tents sat. The insides of both looked to be lived in, with crumpled sleeping bags and more candy wrappers inside. There, just outside of the left hand side tent, was another dirty footprint, the grime more than likely coming from the main floors of the mall, with their filth and standing rainwater.   
“It's all recent,” Daryl muttered to Rick, keeping his voice low.   
The group scanned the area, straining their ears in the darkness. Minutes passed.   
Rick turned to leave, placing his gun back in its holster but as he did so, a hint of a sound came from further behind the fake camping display. Daryl could have sworn it was a smothered sneeze.   
The group looked at each other. Rick grabbed his gun again and motioned with his head that they should advance in the direction of the noise.   
The walked down the aisles, Daryl down one side with Michonne following and Rick down the adjacent one, Bob to his rear. Sasha stood at the camping display a moment longer before heading to join the rest of them, who had reached a cash desk, which held three registers.  
The stand itself was covered with a dust sheet, as though the area had been subject to renovations before everything changed forever. Behind the tills, to the the right stood a cupboard in the wall with the door closed, although they all heard a muffled “Sshhh!” coming from inside.   
Rick took a deep breath after looking to the others and receiving a nod from Daryl. He moved to the side of the desk and made his way to the closed door. The sheriff’s hand closed around the knob and was about to turn it when the dust sheet which covered the tills and floor behind them was pulled aside by someone hiding beneath it.   
The rest of the group brandished their weapons at the stranger, and Rick, who had his back to them all, began to slowly turn around.  
“Wait!!” shouted the voice, “We're no threat or danger, please, do not open that door!”  
Rick faced the owner of the voice, his mouth fell open as he regarded the man who had his hands raised in surrender before him, “M-Morgan?!”

~


	20. The End of the World as We Know It

Carl pulled the wooden gates closed with the rope levers after his dad and the others left for the run. He stood for a moment, watching as a walker impaled itself on a stake protruding from the ground. He shook his head as it moaned and tried to reach for him. He turned, kicking stones under his boots as he walked back up to the main prison.   
Lowering her binoculars, Carol had watched the young boy up until he stopped to talk to a couple of kids from Woodbury, Lizzie and Mika, who lived in D wing with their father. She placed them on the wooden bench beside her and crouched to turn the tap at the water barrels they had set up.  
The large blue plastic barrels were fed by a stream just outside of the prison gate, a rudimentary plumbing system had been devised and installed by Tyresse who had worked in construction for periods in the past. He had studied a variety of manuals in the prison library and had worked hard on the implementation of his plans for the pumps Daryl had sourced during a run earlier that year. They used this water for cooking, cleaning, occasionally the laundry if they didn't want to use the main water resources.   
Though the water flowed without issue mostly, occasionally the pumps got blocked, it seemed it was going to be worse during Autumn, now that dead leaves turning to mulch and hampering the water flow.   
Now it seemed, the pipes were backed up again. Carol sighed as a single pitiful drop hit the bottom of her bucket.   
She felt slightly anxious with both Daryl and Rick away from the prison. Although Maggie, Glenn and herself were capable enough to temporarily take charge, in the past few months, Rick had always been around, opting not to join the scavengers outside while his mental state hadn't been healthy. The responsibility of having both Carl and Judith at the prison while their father was out was daunting, he loved those children more than life itself. Of course, all of the adults there would put the safety of any of the kids above themselves, without question. It was just that if anything big or bad happened, she hoped their emergency plans would kick in and everyone would know what to do.   
Wiping her hands on her cargo pants, she picked up her bucket and headed back to the main heart of the prison, swinging it like she didn't have a care in the world. She did have a care though. A hunter-shaped care. The most important person in her world was out beyond reach, as he had been many times before, but she felt that it was possible they were riding their luck out. That eventually there would be no more dramatic rescues or last minute saves. This was real life now, not everyone got to live.   
Once inside she saw Glenn and Hershel pouring over plans of the layout of the prison. Before the illness had struck, the council had discussed the possibility of clearing out the rest of the building, the parts they had sectioned off and avoided. They floated the idea around because the option of taking in more strangers could only be explored if they had enough room to house extra people. They had A Block, of course, but a debate had raged amongst the council as to whether it was best to keep it separate from being used as living quarters. It had been useful during the outbreak to a degree, but Hershel had carefully mentioned the prospect of potentially using it to detain any troublemakers. Not every human person was going to be good, the new world deployed no law makers, no governments, no rules. As they had learned in the past.  
Carol assumed they were discussing options regarding the expansion. She smiled and nodded at them as they stood, gathering weapons.   
“We're going down to the weak spot. Walkers are building up again,” Glenn explained, “Carl is down there already.”  
“Ok,” replied Carol, “Have you seen Tyresse? The water’s blocked again.”  
“Old Mr Forster from Woodbury passed away a while ago, while the others were loading up for the run,” Hershel said sadly, “Tyreese is out beyond the fences over to the west, he's taken the body, gonna dig a grave for the old boy. I said we'd go out, pay our respects once he's about done. He'll be an hour or two yet.”  
“Damn,” muttered Carol. The light would be fading soon. Although they had flashlights, unblocking the pipe was best done in broad daylight, in order to dislodge it completely and ensure it was attached again, plus, maximum light meant no walkers or anything worse sneaking up. “I'll go quickly do it myself,” she said, “I've done it before.”  
“You sure you wanna risk it? Can we not sort it out tomorrow, first light?” asked Hershel, regarding her intensely.   
“No, I'll be fine, the washing is still backed up and I'll need it up and running as soon as possible,” replied Carol.  
“Well, go see if Maggie will go out with you, she can cover you,” suggested Glenn, knowing Carol had made her mind up. “She's got Judith in our cell. Someone else could watch her while you're out.”  
Carol smiled and nodded, turning on her heel. She reached their wing and could hear Maggie singing songs to Judith, the songs Beth taught them all while out on the road. Taking a deep breath she quietly mounted the stairs.   
“Knock, knock,” she said gently as she reached the entrance to the cell the newlyweds shared. Maggie stopped singing and looked up, a smile on her pretty face. She held Judith in her arms and had been rocking the infant while sitting on a hard backed chair.   
“She loves that one,” the girl declared, turning her gaze back to the baby.   
Carol smiled kindly, “That was Beth's favourite too, right?”  
“Oh yeah,” nodded Maggie, “She'd sing it over and over when she was about four. Drove my daddy crazy,” she gave a small laugh, still moving gently from side to side with Judith, who hadn't stirred.   
“Hmmm,” replied Carol softly, “Sophia used to love a song from Beauty and the Beast, all kids go through that stage. Wonder what this one’s obsession will be?”   
They both knew that in this world, Judith just making it to be four years old would be an accomplishment, thought neither said it aloud.   
“Maggie,” began Carol, “I wondered if you'd come out to the end of the pipe with me?”  
Maggie snorted, “Now there's an offer I can't refuse. A delightful trip down to the end of the smelly pipe. It's blocked again, I take it?”  
Carol nodded, “Maybe we could put Judith in that baby sling? I could take some of her diapers, a bottle or two and her pacifier and she could get some fresh air?”   
“Sure,” replied Maggie, taking to her feet, “She sleeps better after she's been outside so maybe we can unblock the damned thing and tire her out, two birds and all that.”  
Ten minutes later the two women were at the concealed hole in the fence nearest the plumbing system. Maggie had Judith on her back in a baby carrier cling and Carol had her pack filled with baby items, just in case they needed them. Both women carried their knives, had their guns in holsters and a decent amount of ammunition.   
Carol unclipped the fasteners and pulled back the wire fence enough so that Maggie could duck through. She then picked up a small bucket to empty any sludge into and followed through the opening. Once she had secured it closed again, they set off.   
The plumbing system had been rigged a fair distance away from the prison, they would need Carol's binoculars to see their home once they reached the end of the pipe. They walked with their senses on high alert, only speaking in whispers and only when necessary. The trees afforded them some cover but also the opportunity for any walkers or strangers to sneak up.   
Daryl had taught her tips on tracking, mostly during their winter out on the road before the prison. Carol could remember some of the tricks he had shown her but not all. Perhaps she had grown comfortable at the prison, she had hardly ever been outside of the gates, only a couple of times on her own and then it had been within spitting distance of their home.  
The last time she had unblocked the pipe, Rick had been with her and he had taken charge.   
She had to learn to be master of her own destiny, there wasn't always going to be someone bigger, stronger, braver to hide behind. Deep down, she wanted to be fearless like Michonne, to wield a weapon and intimidate people with just a look. If she was being totally honest, she often felt too much like the mom of their set up. Not that she viewed any of her peers like her children, not at all. Her priorities in the beginning had been organising food, washing, general chores, tending to the younger kids. The defence of the group had fallen naturally to the men. It had been assumed roles, even at the farm, Lori had been keen on the idea that the women were the oil that kept the cogs turning.   
Carol wanted more from her life now. She had no husband keeping her tied to a washing machine, stove or ironing board. Not that she minded any of the domestic tasks she did now, she just wanted to do more, be more. Be who she thought she should be, a survivor, a fighter.   
She knew how to survive, living with the constant threat of Ed dishing out a beating that went too far taught her how to be strong deep down, how to cling on to life. The memory of her beautiful daughter inspired her to fight on, she would be damned if she was going out with a whimper after everything life had thrown at her. A violent bully of a husband, the dead coming back to life roaming the earth, and the loss of her baby girl had battered her but she would no longer be cowed.   
She realised that she had strolled ahead of Maggie, lost in her thoughts. Stopping for a moment, she waited for her friend to catch up. They walked on, eyes roaming the surrounding trees, but all was strangely quiet, bar the bubbling from the water running along beside them.   
Finally, they reached the end of the stream, a once picturesque wooden bridge constructed over it just a short distance from the mouth. A metal box raised up from the ground under the bridge held the end of the pipe. Carol reached down as Maggie patrolled the area around her. After unscrewing the pipe from the box to clean the debris and sludge as much as she could, Carol tapped the mouth of the pipe over the bucket, grimacing as the matter hit the bottom with a splatter.   
As she screwed the pipe back in, the air vibrated with a massive boom.   
Eyes wide, Maggie looked down at her, “What was that?”  
Carol dropped the pipe as Maggie spun and looked to be about to take off back home. The older woman grabbed her.   
“Wait!” Carol breathed, spinning Maggie so that they were facing each other, the older woman holding the other’s right arm.   
Panicked, Maggie struggled against her friend, “That sounded like an explosion. Glenn. Daddy….I….look!” The younger woman pointed shakily to the sky with her free hand. Black smoke billowed above the trees from the direction of the prison. Carol closed her eyes for a second to gather herself.   
“Listen to me,” she began, reopening her eyes to Maggie breathing quickly, face ashen. “Listen, Maggie. Maggie.” She shook the girl gently.   
Maggie focussed her eyes on Carol. She took a deep breath and nodded to indicate she was listening.   
Carol began, “We're heading back towards home. But. Listen to me, Maggie,” she moved around trying to catch Maggie’s panicking eyes as they wandered around the area, “But we're going to approach from a slightly different direction. Ok?”  
Maggie nodded, but her eyes appeared unfocused.   
“We'll head a little along this way,” Carol nodded her head in the direction behind Maggie, “We’ll approach from the north rather than the west, where we are now. Ok?”  
“Yes,” the girl whispered, her eyes now on the smoke which billowed to the left of her.   
Carol took Maggie’s hand and they walked on, keeping the black smoke to her right.   
They arrived at the edge of a copse of trees, just before they thinned out in the area of the prison grounds. The sight which greeted them took their breath away.   
A huge army tank had plowed away through trees to the right of Carol and Maggie and now sat just before the entrance to the wooden gates their family had constructed. A tower to the east of the prison had been blown up, it was a mess of flames and black smoke.   
Carol raised the binoculars. She took in the scene. A man who looked to be the Governor stood between the tank and another army issue truck. He had Tyreese kneeling on the floor beside him, the black man’s hands tied behind his back, and a large silver sword pressed to his neck. A number of people stood around, Carol estimated around twenty, mostly men who had driven cars into the clearing, and some were standing atop them, huge guns trained on the prison.   
At that moment, the hatch on hand tank opened a guy popped his head out, looked at the prison and back to the Governor, a huge grin on his face.   
“Shit,” muttered Carol, her mind whirring as she passed the binoculars to Maggie. She pressed a finger to her lips, and the younger woman nodded, her face white with worry.   
Maggie peered at the scene before them. “Oh my God,” she whispered, voice wobbling.   
Carol was thinking, her eyes focused on the clearing, not allowing the panic to set in, “Can you see what’s happening inside the prison?” she almost mouthed, keeping her voice as soft as it would go.   
Lowering the binoculars, Maggie turned to her friend, “Looks like my daddy and Glenn are talking with him. They’re out of the inner gates, down near the outer perimeter fence.” She whispered the details in a matter of fact manner, clearly shocked and trying to disassociate from her panic.   
“Hmmm,” Carol murmured, her eyes travelling to a group of trees to her right. She stood slightly behind Maggie and took a deep breath before nudging her friend.   
“Maggie, we can’t get back to the prison safely. Even if we go round through these trees, it’ll take too long to stop…whatever…is going to happen,” she set out her plan carefully. “Then there’s all the walkers further around the west side of the prison, I’m surprised they haven’t already started to move around because of the noise. So, I’m going to take down the Governor from here.” She made to move off to her right but Maggie grabbed her arm.   
“What? How? Are you crazy?!” The young woman hissed. “He’s got a goddamn tank?!”  
“Yeah, but we’ve got weapons too, look.” Carol moved away and Maggie followed across the leaves to a group of three trees, which stood in an almost triangular formation. The tree in the middle had a hollowed out bark and Maggie watched with some amazement as Carol reached in and pulled out two rifles with automatic scopes, as well as a machine gun. The older woman reached in further and brought out boxes of ammo.   
“How did - ?” Maggie wondered, her eyes wide.   
“After Rick headed back to his home town for weapons the first time we were in trouble with the Governor, I kept some aside once we thought it was over. Then a week or two ago, I hid them out here in that tree trunk, I know the which one because that tree in front has branches bent to look like an elephant with a trunk. See?” Carol explained, nodding her head to show her friend.   
Maggie turned and nodded, the information she had just received added to the severity of the situation they faced overwhelming her a little.   
Carol continued, “You stay back here, the gunfire could wake Judith and any noise would give us away. Those assholes with the Governor could come looking over here if they hear anything. Ok?”  
Maggie nodded, but took hold of one of the rifles Carol handed to her.   
“I’m going to camouflage myself with some mud, try to blend in with the trees, then I’m going to pick him off, the guy in the tank too.”  
“But if you miss, they’ll know we’re here,” muttered Maggie, her gaze fixed on the weapon in her hands.   
“It’s a risk we gotta take,” admitted Carol, she shrugged, “I’m a decent shot.”  
Maggie smiled sadly, “You’re a great shot, Carol.”  
“Once I’ve taken aim, the Governor’s ‘army’ are probably gonna turn and come in our direction, we gotta run, go further into the forest, try to double back up to the shack on just off the main road.” Carol studied Maggie to ensure the girl was understanding what they needed to do.   
“The meeting point?” Maggie clarified as the sound of raised voices carried over from the prison. Her eyes widened.   
Carol crunched down and scooped up handfuls of red mud, smeared it on her face and forehead to mute out the brightness of her skin. She took a deep breath, stood, and plucked up a rifle, raising it to her shoulder and peering through the scope. The weapon was fully loaded, but she added extra ammo to her pockets, flashing Maggie a tight smile, before heading back to the trees which lined the clearing.   
Once there, she lowered herself and hid behind a cluster of branches, resting the barrel of the rifle on a thicker bough. She found her target and could see him gesticulating with one hand. Moving the viewer, she saw Hershel and Glenn, both trying to talk the Governor down. She turned her aim back to the man with the eye patch dressed all in black.   
Suddenly, their enemy swung his blade and caught Tyreese on the neck, the man’s dirty white jumper instantly blossoming with bright red blood.   
“Bastard,” Carol muttered as she pulled the trigger. She held her breath as the bullet caught the Governor and shot through his neck, the man immediately slumping to his knees then forwards.  
Taking no notice of the actions or confusion of the people in the Governor’s group, she manoeuvred and caught the head of the guy in the tank in her crosshairs. He had turned in puzzlement to scan the trees and she shot without hesitation, catching him right between the eyes. He flew backwards, hit the metal lid of the top of the funnel he had been leaning out of and then fell back down into the body of the tank.  
Carol watched in horror as the tank steamed forwards, the dead body had obviously landed on something which had sparked the tank into life.   
“Shit!” she hissed as the huge vehicle hit the outer metal fence and Glenn and Hershel ran back up towards the main heart of the prison.   
She could hear shouting and sensed movement and saw that a few of the Governor’s men were heading towards the trees. Taking a moment, she raised her binoculars and scanned the area, walkers from the weak spot where on the move, coming around to the clearing, and stray walkers were emerging from the opposite direction, through the forest, obviously having been summoned by the sound.   
Turning, Carol ran as fast as she could to Maggie.   
“Got them both,” she breathed, “But there are walkers all around and trouble headed our way.” She gathered up the machine gun and strapped it on her back.   
Maggie nodded mutely, and following her friend, they both ran across the leaves, the black smoke and shouts from the prison billowing behind them.   
They both made silent pleas that their family members had remembered their emergency plan and were loading up the school bus at the very moment. All hell had broken loose and life was about to change for them all, perhaps their luck had finally ran out.

~


	21. No

The black man in the torn, tatty tan coloured knee length coat relaxed slightly in recognition once Rick had uttered his name. He glanced warily at the rest of the prison crew, all poised with weapons raised, but gave their leader a thin, weak half smile and nodded his head.   
“Rick,” he replied simply, his brown eyes once again roaming over the strangers before him.   
Rick turned to his group and inclined his head in a gesture which confirmed they should lower their weapons.   
Daryl still brandished his bow at a warning level, ready to fight should the situation change. “You know this guy?” he regarded Rick with his cool blue eyes.   
Rick nodded, placing his pistol in his holster, turning his body slightly to include Morgan in the conversation. He looked at his best friend and explained, “After I woke up in that hospital, Morgan was the first living person I met. He helped me. Saved me. I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for him.” He allowed his eyes to focus on each of his friends in turn and they relaxed a notch.   
Daryl looked from Rick to the stranger named Morgan, his lip twitched as he narrowed his eyes at the man, trying to read his demeanour, not entirely ready to accept that any danger had been averted. He remained silent, knowing his scrutiny would convey his mistrust of the newcomer.   
A voice at the back of his mind whispered that this reunion was delaying their return to the prison, precious minutes were ticking by and the sense of unease he had felt all day multiplied in the pit of his stomach. Daryl exchanged a look with Michonne, whose face was drawn, her eyes guarded.   
“How’d you end up here, Morgan?” Rick asked, his hands on his hips.   
Morgan looked nervously between the group, his eyes straying to the cupboard door beside him.   
Rick cleared his throat, “Its ok, Morgan,” he soothed, maintaining eye contact with his old acquaintance and spreading his hands in a calming gesture, “You’re in no danger.” The sheriff turned to Daryl and nodded his head for the archer to lower his bow further.  
Daryl sighed, gritted his teeth and obliged.   
“But who is in the cupboard?” Rick asked gently, turning back to the man before them.   
Morgan gave a humourless smile and headed across, opening the door and speaking in hushed tones to whoever was inside. He reached in and a slender arm slid around his neck. Turning around, Morgan supported a dark haired woman in her twenties as she hobbled out into the weak light, limping on her left leg.   
The two of them moved cautiously to the cash desk where they leaned up against it. Her attire was as grubby as Morgan’s, it was clear to all that this group had been camping out in this store for at least a number of days, if not weeks.  
Behind the woman emerged a boy in his late teens, with broad shoulders, and fair hair curling around his ears, his skin tanned as though he ordinarily spent a lot of time outside. His light blue eyes scanned the strangers before him with a tired wariness, and a long, smooth stick was held in his right hand.   
A strained silence fell.   
“I’m Rick,” the sheriff began, placing one hand on his chest. He then introduced the rest of the group, as Morgan and his two friends remained statue still.   
The boy from the cupboard stepped forward, offering a hand, “I’m Benjamin. This is Nora,” he indicated with his head to the woman who seemed to flinch as though in pain. “You seem to know Morgan already.” As he shook Rick’s hand, the young man’s pale blue eyes met the sheriff’s gaze and Benjamin gave a tight smile.   
Rick’s mouth returned the smile, “Morgan saved my life, in the beginning. He helped me out a few months ago too, only right I should return the favour.” He studied Morgan, willing his old acquaintance to relax.   
Morgan sighed, the woman from his group still leaning against him for support. He rubbed his free hand across his face, and looked from Nora to Benjamin. The boy met Morgan’s gaze and gave a small nod of his head.  
“Ok Rick,” he stated, a tired half smile played at his mouth, “We accept your offer of help.”  
Daryl clenched his jaw, feeling Michonne’s eyes on him. He knew she was trying to silently urge him into instilling caution into their leader.   
“Rick,” Daryl hissed, and once the sheriff turned to him, he jerked his head behind them, indicating that he would like a word.   
The two men moved away from the rest, to an area nearer to the camping display. Rick had his back to the group, while Daryl kept a watchful eye over his friend’s shoulder.   
“You sure about this, man?” Daryl enquired, keeping his voice low, his eyes fixed on the three strangers behind them, just feet away, his bow still in his hand.   
Rick adjusted his position to gain eye contact with the hunter, “Yeah,” he nodded. “I know Morgan, he’s a good guy. I thought the council agreed to start taking in newcomers?” The sheriff’s gaze was serious as he regarded his friend.   
Daryl shrugged, unwilling to admit that opening up their home to strangers and to the possibility of placing his loved ones in danger had given him cold feet. “We needed to plan clearin’ out more space first,” he explained quietly.  
“We’ll make room,” Rick stated, turning around to survey the group behind him before returning his attention to the hunter, “Morgan lost his son, we’ve all lost people. You, Carol, Hershel….me. We all dealt with it differently but in the beginning, when I thought I had lost everyone, Morgan took a chance on me. So we take a chance on him now.” He failed to mention the Morgan he had met a few months ago while in King’s County and collecting weapons to use against The Governor. No one needed to know the full extent of Morgan’s state of mind at that time.  
Daryl chewed his lip, “And what if this is a trap? What if there ain’t just three o’them? What if some asshole is waitin’ in the shadows. Fuck knows what Morgan has had to do to survive – you know what it’s like out here. We all do.”  
Sighing, Rick placed his hands on his hips and looked behind him once again as Morgan produced a bottle of water and offered it around to the others.   
“Chance we gotta take,” Rick replied firmly, eyes still on the group. “Look, you wanna get outta here, right?”  
Daryl nodded slowly, wanting nothing more than to ride through those gates and into the warmth of his woman’s smile.   
“So those three look like they’ve been holed up in here awhile and all this talking is delaying us leaving and going home. We take them back with us and get their story on the way. It’ll work out, brother.” Rick promised and turned to Daryl and clapped a hand on his shoulder.   
Daryl blew out a breath and grimaced. “Ok,” he agreed reluctantly.   
Michonne watched as the two men rejoined the group and Rick announced that they would leave the mall and head home with the three newcomers. She bit back the urge to question this decision, she knew Morgan had been hostile back in King’s County when herself, Rick and Carl had been on the weapons run. The man’s demeanour at this moment seemed guarded, meek and sedate, so she decided to remain watchful but trust in Rick Grimes. As always.  
Morgan and Benjamin told their tale of being part of a larger group before each of their friends had fallen either at the hands of walkers, from malnutrition, injuries or infections. Just before stumbling upon the mall, they had happened upon another group of survivors with a base to the east. The outcome of that clearly hadn’t been good, as Nora teared up at Morgan’s recollection and so the older man trailed off, Rick nodding in understanding.   
Daryl felt a twinge of guilt at his reluctance to invite these people into their home. They had suffered loss, just as he had, if his family had turned their back on him at the beginning, who knew where he would be now?  
Benjamin revealed that they had a pickup concealed around to the rear of the mall which he and Morgan had been using only when absolutely necessary to go on runs to the neighbouring towns to look for any items they needed which they couldn’t find in the mall.  
“Why don’t you guys follow us in your truck?” Daryl suggested softly, feeling Rick’s surprised eyes on him. “We got people at home who can look at her leg,” He directed his words to Morgan, hoping to establish a connection, “Can look you all over.” He added.   
“Thanks, Daryl,” Morgan gave a small smile and nodded.  
Michonne peered around Rick, “We got food too. There’ll be no banquet, but it’s gotta be better than living off candy bars.” She inclined her head toward a stray wrapper on the floor and Benjamin chuckled.   
“I’d kill for a half decent bowl of gruel right about now,” he replied, his dimples showing as he looked from Michonne to Morgan.   
Morgan nodded again, “Let’s go, then,” he turned to Nora, “If you agree?”  
The woman looked to be about to put up an argument, crossing her arms across her chest, her brown eyes flitting between the group before her. She opened her mouth but abruptly closed it again before shrugging her shoulders, “Fine,” she sighed. She brushed down her black shirt and looked up, “Let’s split.”  
Rick smiled, “You’ll be safer with us,” he promised to Nora.   
She looked back at him, her eyes filled with tears and her chin wobbled as she nodded her head. She took a deep breath and Benjamin moved to her left side to take her weight, but she used the back of her right hand to swipe at her tears. Benjamin murmured in her ear and she gave a weak smile at his words.   
“Thank you,” Nora said to Rick and flashed him a smile that transformed her features. Rick cleared his throat as he chased away the thought that this woman was not unattractive and tried not to notice that she bore a passing resemblance to Lori.   
Daryl glanced between his friend and the injured woman, having instantly picked up on the physical similarity to Rick’s dead wife. He only hoped that this did not undo the progress that the sheriff had made in recent weeks. That was the last thing anyone needed.  
Bob stepped forward, “Well, as lovely as this dilapidated mall is, I think we should get going before sunset.” He pulled at Sasha’s arm and together they began to gather up their supplies.   
The three newcomers seemed to have only the clothes on their backs but Benjamin insisted on not leaving his stick behind. Morgan also had a similar weapon, stowed behind the cash desk which he grabbed to bring along.  
Michonne raised her eyebrows at the wooden sticks, but decided against asking for the background story. There would be time to learn more about this trio back at the prison. Her heart fluttered nervously as she caught the glances between the injured woman and Rick. She refused to allow herself to feel negatively towards Nora or to feel possessive and jealous over Rick. He had no idea that her feelings towards him had grown from the crush she had harboured not long after they met into something deeper. She doubted he would ever return those feelings. Resolving to ignore both her romantic interest in the sheriff and any frisson between him and this woman, Michonne decided to move to Nora’s right hand side and help manoeuvre her down the escalators with Benjamin.   
Daryl strode ahead, eager to retrieve his bike. Once they had exited the department store, after retrieving their shopping carts, they negotiated their way down the walkways without major incident, although the feeling of ease lingered over the now extended group like a storm cloud.   
After what seemed like an eternity, they were outside in the fresh air. It transpired that Nora had been holed up inside for two weeks and she in particular drew in huge breaths of air, as though she had been stranded underwater and was gasping for life.   
Benjamin stated that he would run around to the back of the mall and bring the truck around. Rick’s group exchanged looks which did not go unnoticed.  
“It’s ok,” the boy reassured them with a grin, “I’m eighteen. I took my driving test just before….you know.” He cast his eyes downward.   
“Benjamin’s a good driver,” Morgan said, looking amused, “Bit of a speed demon, but at least there ain’t no speeding tickets to worry about.”  
Benjamin grinned and transferred Nora to Morgan before he took off along the sidewalk at the front of the mall, carrying his stick in his right hand. “Fast runner too,” remarked Morgan, smiling.  
“He be ok, back there, on his own?” Daryl enquired, taking the opportunity to light up a cigarette. “He’s just a kid.”  
“Oh, Benjamin can take care of himself,” stated Morgan, “We made sure of it.”  
Daryl nodded, still anxious to be on his bike and tearing up the road towards home. The group stood, watching the horizon for Benjamin in the truck and the parking lot for any new dangers.   
“So,” began Nora, “where exactly are you guys taking us?”  
“We have a prison…” Rick replied.   
“A prison?!”   
“I know how it sounds,” soothed Rick, looking from Nora to Morgan, “But it’s got fences.”  
“And watch towers,” continued Michonne. “It’s got a roof and medical supplies as well as an infirmary. There’s plenty of space and we have a set up that works for everyone who lives there. It’s safe, which is the most important thing.” She gave the woman beside her a reassuring smile.   
Nora gave a tight nod, “Can’t be any worse than living in a damp, fake campsite, I suppose.”   
Rick caught Michonne’s eye and they exchanged a smile. Michonne ignored the warm feeling in her chest and turned her gaze back to scanning the area around them.   
Five minutes later, a sky blue pickup truck approached from the rear of the mall, coming to a stop directly before them. Benjamin jumped out of the driver’s side and helped Morgan get Nora into the passenger seat. Morgan then climbed into the back of the vehicle, offering the remaining space up to the supplies Rick and the others had gathered.   
Once the groups had arranged themselves, Benjamin agreed to follow Rick and would flash his lights should any problems occur, and Rick would do the same.  
A short while later, Daryl was leading the two vehicles, back on his bike, the wind blowing through his hair, his thoughts lost in imagining how delicious it would feel to lay his eyes upon the smiling freckled face of his woman. He would savour it as he used to with any chocolate bar he found. Only then would he truly be home; when those blue orbs of hers fastened upon him and he could swim in the light of her dimpled grin. He barely noticed the sun falling through the sky as he pictured himself entering their cell and crawling onto their now shared bed, the warmth from her seeping into his bones and his heart. He almost felt a physical ache to bury his head into her neck and breathe her in.   
It was then that he noticed the smoke. Grey plumes billowed up from the direction of the prison and he almost fell from his bike in terror.   
Slowing, he pulled up alongside Rick.   
“You see that?” Daryl enquired, breathlessly trying to swallow down the fear climbing up his chest.   
Rick’s eyes shone with a panic akin to Daryl’s but the sheriff took a moment, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I see it.” He said weakly, his face draining of colour.  
Daryl ground his teeth together and looked back at the smoke, as he heard Benjamin’s truck come to a stop behind them.   
“We-I…” began Rick as Daryl noticed the sheriff’s left leg bouncing up and down nervously.   
Michonne’s face appeared from the passenger seat of the truck, her left hand on Rick’s arm. “We’ll get back there as soon as we can. But we don’t know what has happened and tearing off hell for leather won’t help if we end up in trouble.” Her eyes were worried as she peered through the windscreen.  
Rick closed his eyes and gulped in air. He looked up at Daryl, “You go ahead. But be careful.” The sheriff’s blue eyes held a far away light, and Daryl knew he would be trying not to imagine worse case scenarios involving Carl and Judith.   
Daryl revved up and sped off, ignoring Michonne’s plea for calm. Now was not the time for calm. He was not surprised to see Rick keeping up with him in his mirror. Both men had their very reason for living back at that prison and nothing would stop them from heading towards any potential danger to save those kids and Carol.   
~  
“No. No, no, no, no, no,” moaned Daryl as he jumped off the bike without even waiting for it to stop. He winced at the sight before him, unsure of what to do first.  
There were walkers strolling nonchalantly around the grounds, across the yard, in and out of the dining area and no doubt inside. One tower was a smoking mess of debris.   
The panic clawed up Daryl’s throat as he heard Rick’s truck stop and doors slam. He noticed a number of vehicles on the grass outside of the fences of the prison and took off, running across to them with Rick, Michonne and Sasha following. Bob stood open mouthed at the truck, taking in the devastation.   
Michonne reached the cars first, and stumbled upon the body of Tyreese, his head almost hanging off his reanimated body, writhing on the ground.  
“Tyyyy!” Sasha screamed, falling to her knees by his side.   
Daryl gulped and surveyed the area, noting some dead walkers leaving a trail towards the trees around the clearing. He moved further along, paying no heed to the dead stumbling around, his eyes straying to the trees every now and again as he tried to fathom out what had happened here.   
Stopping short, he recognised a prone body laying face down on the ground. He nudged the corpse onto its back using one foot. The Governer. He had been shot through his good eye.   
Daryl raised his head and shouted to Rick, who had been crouched over Tyreese, probably putting him down.   
A couple of walkers came within his space, so he grabbed his knife and disposed of them quickly as Rick approached, leaving a tearful Sasha at her brother’s body, Michonne comforting her.   
Daryl noticed that Rick’s eyes were wild with barely suppressed panic, his gaze wandering around without focussing.   
“Rick!” Daryl hissed, grabbing his friend by the shoulders, “Look!”  
Looking down, Rick took in the sight of his slain enemy. His head reeled up in shock.   
“He was shot. Long range, from behind. Probably from those trees.” Daryl gestured behind him, desperate to run across and study the ground in that area for tracks.   
Rick’s head whipped around and he swept his gaze across the area Daryl had gestured towards.   
“Need to…” Rick’s voice broke, he cleared his throat, “Need to check inside. Judith. Carl.” He turned and began to run across the grass, shoving and grappling walkers out of his path.   
Daryl stood, his heart telling him to head in the opposite direction, through the forest. His head told him that he needed to stick with Rick and also hope that perhaps their loved ones had found a hiding place while whatever went down occurred. Carol had experience in concealing herself, he tried to reason with his fear, presumed dead, but there was every possibility that she was holed up as she had been in the tombs. If she wasn’t – he bit his lip and fought back tears which threatened. No.   
Gathering himself, the hunter ran after Rick, catching up with him at the destroyed main fence.   
“Carl!” bellowed Rick, disregarding the noise he made, brandishing his knife and gun and cutting down any body that got within arm’s reach.   
Daryl had his knife, and kept pace with the sheriff, his blue eyes roaming the prison and his ears straining for any sound which wasn’t the dead.   
“Carl!” Rick shouted again as they moved across the dining area, the light fading as the sky turned a burnt red, almost like blood on water, spreading across the landscape at leisure.   
“Carol!” Daryl screamed, not knowing where to look first.   
The two men moved inside, felling walkers, barely noticing that Michonne had caught up having left Sasha crying on Bob’s shoulder. She too called out for Carl and Carol, her katana cutting and slicing.   
Daryl ran across the main atrium, launching a running kick into the midriff of the leader of a group of the dead, sending it careering backwards into the others, not stopping to watch them fall into a groaning mass of wriggling limbs.   
He headed to their cell, hoping against hope that whatever had happened had done so with warning so that Carol could gather some of her things or by some miracle, leave some kind of message or sign for him.   
Bursting inside, his heart fell as he realised it all looked exactly as it had that morning. Moving across to the desk, he noticed her book which held the pressed Cherokee Rose was still in its usual place. Hope faded. He checked every surface, scanned the concrete walls for any scribbled word or possible communication. Nothing. Her knife was gone, but that was to be expected.   
Gulping back sheer terror, Daryl whirled around and ran straight into a walker at the door to the cell. They fell, with the hunter atop the corpse, but his knife fell to the floor to his right. Struggling against the creature, it’s teeth snapping and rattling, he fought and rolled nearer to his weapon, but now his panic and fear overflowed. Punching out with one hand, he grabbed his knife with the other as his vision clouded with tears and he manoeuvred the thing beneath him. In the distance he could hear Rick and Michonne still fruitlessly shouting for the younger Grimes.   
“No!” Daryl heard himself cry in a strangled voice as he stabbed the walker blindly in the face.   
He kept stabbing, stabbing, stabbing, as the tears and anger flowed. Finally he dropped his knife and howled, “Nooooooooo!”  
Outside by their truck, Morgan, Benjamin and Nora stood exchanging grim looks and observing the carnage before them in stunned silence.

~


	22. Plans

“Not far now,” stated Carol, ducking to avoid a low hanging branch, and taking a deep breath of cool air, “You want me to take Judith?” She turned back to Maggie who’s face was flushed with exertion. It had been a longer walk than they thought towards the shell of a shack that had been nominated as a meeting point should the prison fall or be attacked.   
“No,” Maggie shook her head, “I got her.”  
They trudged onwards in silence as the day seeped away. Carol dared not think of Daryl, of what he would do when he returned home. It wasn’t certain that the other inhabitants of the prison would flee, those who did might not make to the shack. Some might take their chances out in the world on their own.   
She refused to allow herself to dwell on not being inside the fence when The Governor rolled up. The thought of Hershel, Glenn and particularly Carl being potentially separated and even lost forever caused her mouth to run dry and the stomach roll uncomfortably. There was no guarantee that those three were out there together, after the fall of the farm, it had been sheer luck that the group had found each other on the highway, but to do it twice was highly unlikely.   
Panic would do herself, Maggie and Judith no good. They had to focus on themselves until they reached the shack, with the best and hopefully most likely scenario being Glenn, Hershel and Carl sitting on the broken porch waiting for them. They could then plan further. Carol would not entertain thoughts which deviated from that.   
A thread of an idea bubbled up in her mind. What if The Governor had back up waiting on the main road or in and around the area of the shack? The building was barely standing but it was noticeable because at some point the roof had been painted yellow. That roof though now partly rotted or fallen away, still provided a fairly prominent focal point from a distance, which was why it had been selected as their go-to spot. It would pay to be cautious.   
Carol stopped in her tracks, although her aching feet throbbed and she yearned to sit down against a tree.   
Maggie halted, “Everything ok?” she whispered, remembering that it wasn’t so long ago that her friend had been ill to the point of near death.   
Nodding Carol took a breath, a plan forming in her head as she remembered that her pack contained her binoculars.   
“Maggie, we need to take a moment,” she began, knowing the reply she would receive.   
“But, the meeting point. Glenn could be there already!” Maggie protested in a low voice. “They probably all are if they got the bus outta there!”  
“I know,” nodded Carol, “But I think we should have a talk about this. Now,” she cut off her friend before she could reply, “What if The Governor had a back up plan? Or what if he has people stationed around the main road? He’s dead but any colleagues may have out there might not know that. Or they may know that and be just as evil as he was. They could be looking to take hostages or prisoners. Or something worse.”  
Maggie’s eyes widened as she took in the possibility.   
“I don’t want to scare you,” Carol continued, “But we have to think this through. If Glenn and the others made it to the shack, what if they were ambushed or are in some kind of trouble? Maybe we should head North a little and approach the shack from there. I have my binoculars. We can check it out without being seen or walking into a trap. We’d have the element of surprise too.”  
“Oh, that could be wise,” her friend nodded, seeing the logic behind the plan. “How do you think of this stuff?” marvelled Maggie, “You’re like a strategic genius. You ever think of joining the military?”  
Carol snorted, “No. Was too busy trying and failing to be a good little wife.”  
“You’d have been amazing in the forces,” Maggie said as they started walking again in a more northerly direction, “And that Ed, he’d shit his pants if he could see how able and strong you are now. Don’t ever forget that.”  
The women exchanged smiles as Carol reached into her bag and placed her binoculars around her neck. She didn’t mention that she had often ran through escape routes and plans in her head late at night in her cell, which was how she had come up with the notion of stashing secret guns in the bark of that tree. She also knew that if Ed suddenly re-entered her life, she’d no longer be the cowed, pitiful victim she was before. That woman was long gone.   
They walked in as near to complete silence as they could. Carol had whispered that they needed to move like ghosts to maintain their cover, should any enemies or trouble be waiting on the road.   
A fair distance from the point where the trees met the main route through the area, they stopped and fed Judith. Just two bottles of formula remained, which meant they had eight hours to try to find more, whether they risked returning home or traveling around for it.   
Once the baby was content and settled back in her sling on Maggie’s back, they forged onwards. Half an hour later they arrived at the trees lining the road, and Carol could see the partial yellow roof a short distance away. Keeping their cover, she raised her binoculars and scanned the road from their vantage point.   
The school bus was parked at the shack! She couldn’t see much activity around it, but the moans of a few walkers drifted by on the breeze.   
Carol turned to Maggie, still holding her binoculars aloft. “The bus is there,” she whispered as a relieved smile broke out on the younger woman’s face. “I can’t see any of our people. Can’t see anybody else either. We need to move closer, just so I can be sure we’re not walking into anything we shouldn’t.”  
Maggie nodded, not daring to speak should any noise attract unwanted attention.   
“Let’s move down to that embankment, we can keep cover but I think I’ll be able to see and hear better.” Carol nodded in the direction of a mound of earth which held a copse of dense trees lining the main road just yards from the school bus parked at the shack opposite. They set off determinedly.  
The two women crouched down behind the small hill and Carol offered up thanks that Judith remained in a peaceful slumber but still felt a twinge of concern over their lack of baby supplies. She pushed the worry to the back of her mind; they had to concentrate on the situation at hand first.   
Taking a deep breath, Carol inched up the damp earth on her stomach and peeped her head up enough to raise the binoculars.   
She could see a number of dead walkers on the ground around the school bus, the back doors of the vehicle swung open in the breeze and several bodies slumped out over the step. It appeared that the dead had managed to enter the bus and so many survivors from the prison met their end in a metal trap, some of them attempting to escape to the rear which ended in failure.   
Moving the binoculars, she scanned the area of the shack but it looked as deserted as always, no Glenn or Hershel sat on the porch.   
“Damn,” she muttered under her breath.   
Sensing movement from the front of the bus, Carol adjusted her view and her heart dropped. Closing her eyes for a second, she gathered her thoughts, inhaled and crept down the earth towards Maggie.   
“Glenn? Daddy?” Maggie instantly asked, but her face fell as she took in Carol’s sober features.   
Carol shook her head. “We do have a problem though,” she informed her friend in a whisper.   
“What is it?”   
“The school bus looks to have been over ran by walkers. Most of our people are dead. No sign of Hershel or Glenn, sorry,” The older woman took a deep breath, “There doesn’t appear to be any of The Governor’s people stationed here, but I saw a strange man. He was putting down a walker and he had Carl, Lizzie and Mika around him. He could be holding them against their will. We need to get those kids back.”  
“Are the kids ok?” Maggie gasped.   
Carol grimaced, “They didn’t look too scared or upset but I wasn’t close enough to see clearly. I think Carl could be bleeding from a cut on his arm.”  
“Tell me what I need to do,” replied Maggie, a determined look crossing her face as she grabbed her gun from its holster.   
“Ok,” Carol fixed her friend with her blue eyes and relayed the plan. “You head south a little, to just beyond that burned patch of trees, see it?” She indicated her head towards an area behind Maggie, who turned, spotted the correct place and nodded before focusing again on Carol.   
“You come out of the trees, gun raised to his face, tell the asshole to get on his knees.” Carol’s eyes were like steel, “I’m going to go back along there, where we came from, cross behind the bus and sneak up at him from behind. I’ll get the kids to run to you, then we deal with him…..however he needs to be dealt with.”   
Maggie nodded solemnly, “Now?”  
“Now,” Carol replied.  
The two women gave each other a quick hug, before turning in opposite directions without another word.   
~   
Carol made it down to the line of trees running along the road quickly. The sky behind the shack burned with tones of russet and copper as evening drew in.   
She crouched and hurried across to the bus, carefully navigating around bodies, trying not to dwell on the fact that these had been her friends and acquaintances, she had cooked for them, done chores for them, held conversations about the days before the apocalypse with them. She pulled out her knife and put down the few reanimated corpses at her feet while scanning the forest surrounding the yellow roofed shack. She replaced the knife into his sheath and carried on with her task.   
Creeping along the side of the bus nearest to their meeting point, she heard Maggie’s strong, clear voice order the stranger to his knees. Carl shouted out to Maggie and Carol heard shuffling which she assumed and hoped was the guy complying with commands. She peeped around the front of the vehicle at the group of people just yards in front of her.  
Carol hurried out across the front of the bus and came up behind the stranger in a few short steps.   
“Don’t move,” she ordered, pressing the tip of her gun into the short dark blond hair at the back of his head. He was taller than she had thought, even kneeling he was imposing, probably over six feet when standing. He raised his hands in surrender without a word. Lizzie and Mika stood to the man’s right while the young Grimes was to his left.   
Carl whirled around and gasped, a smile breaking across his features and he threw himself at Carol, wrapping his arms around her waist. She allowed the embrace for a second as she gave Lizzie and Mika reassuring smiles.   
“Go. Go run to Maggie,” she said and the kids obeyed in a heartbeat, Carl thrilled to spot his sister nestled in Maggie’s sling.  
“Put your hands behind your back,” she ordered to her captive and he obliged in silence.   
Carol produced a length of twine from her backpack as her friend inched closer with her gun pointed at the stranger’s face. Tying his hands together behind him, she gave another command, “Move, across to the shack. Now.”  
He stood with a grunt and Carol noticed a patch of blood staining his light grey jumper, it appeared he had an injury to the right side of his stomach. She cast a glance at Carl who seemed to be trying to get her attention.   
The man moved across the road to the shack and sat on the steps of the porch as Carol demanded. Both women kept their weapons trained on him and the three kids stood behind them.   
“Carol,” whispered Carl.   
“What?” she whispered quietly, motioning to Maggie to keep her attention focused on the stranger.   
“He’s ok,” Carl explained, tipping his sheriff’s hat towards the man. “He was helping us. Helped us off the bus and killed a bunch of walkers. He’s not a threat, I can tell.”   
Carol studied the boy, knowing that he had a gift for assessing newcomers, he had vouched for Michonne almost immediately upon her arrival and now she was firmly part of the family.   
The man looked solemnly across and gave a small smile to the boy, which Carl returned. Carol narrowed her eyes at the stranger and he quickly averted his gaze.   
She turned to Mika and Lizzie after exchanging a look with Maggie.  
“This true?” she asked the girls.   
“Yes ma’am,” answered Lizzie, her eyes filled with innocence.   
Mika giggled slightly, “He was wonderful,” she breathed.   
Carol rolled her eyes. “Ok,” she stated, looking at each of them, “I’m going to have to check him out. We have to be careful. But I’ll bear in mind that he helped you. Carl, take out your gun. Girls, your knives. I need you to stay alert for walkers while Maggie and I take care of this. Then we need to figure out what we’re gonna do about Judith and finding her some milk.”  
Maggie stood statue still in front of the man and he sat studying the foliage in the yard of the shack, avoiding her eyes.   
“We’re going to have to talk to this guy,” Carol murmured to her friend, both weapons now trained on the man. “Carl says he helped them get off the bus alive.”  
Maggie turned her head, “So what are we going to do?” she breathed, quickly focusing again on her captive.   
Shrugging, Carol kept her voice low, “If he’s not a threat, we cut him loose. Quickly. Warn him to keep the hell away from us. We need to think about finding food for us and Judith is gonna need formula. And soon.”  
“Or he could come with us?” suggested Carl from behind them.   
“Hey,” the man piped up before either of them could reply to the boy. His grey eyes studied them calmly from his position of weakness.  
“What?” Carol snapped, channeling her best snarl and hoped it was as effective as that of a certain hunter close to her heart.   
“Hi,” he continued, and he smiled, a gesture which transformed his slender features. Both Carol and Maggie noticed that he was actually incredibly good looking, his dirty blond hair falling over his forehead, broad shoulders clothed in a jumper which highlighted his muscular arms. Carol now understood Mika’s giggling and hoped her snarl hadn’t slipped under the beam of his smile. She heard Maggie clear her throat and shuffle her feet beside her.   
“My name is Alec,” the man informed them, a hint of an accent clipping his words, as though he had lived in Europe at some point in the past. His smile faded but his grey eyes remained genuine, “I believe I can help you out, especially with the baby formula. But I need you to trust me.”  
The two women, still brandishing their guns looked at each other and realised a choice had to be made. 

~


End file.
